The Fearless Leader
by aliterarycharacter
Summary: After months of using the Amis meetings as an excuse to dreamily stare at Marius, Éponine finally discovers what the schoolboys are planning and makes it her mission to convince their fearless leader that a revolution is a death sentence. When she finally comes face to face with Enjolras, however, her life, and her affections, begin to change in very unexpected ways.
1. A Revolution

**A/N: Hello! This is my first les mis story and I'm very excited for people to read it! Obviously, I do not own Les Miserables or any of these characters, I only wish I did. Please read and review!**

The sharp sound of her father's hand making contact with the side of her face echoed in the narrow alleyway. Éponine stumbled backwards, her fingers feeling the slight indent left in her cheek from the ring her father was wearing- no doubt something he'd stolen earlier.

"Next time bring more money, you've got to earn your keep here girl," Thénadier spat at his daughter as she cowered against the brick wall before turning on his heel and stalking in the opposite direction. Éponine straightened up and took a deep breath to settle herself before coming out of the alley and onto the bustling street.

She scurried through the streets, around the beggars and shops people to the café Musain. She knew the only person she wanted to see would be there. Éponine flung the door open and began rushing up the stairs, her eyes directed downwards to avoid tripping in her haste. She was nearly at the top, her heart racing not only from running, but at the thought of seeing Marius Pontmercy. He spent much of his time at the café in recent months along with many other students. She knew they were planning something, a tall blond man who seemed to be the leader of the bunch was always giving passionate speeches about whatever cause it was they were working for. With the amount of time Éponine spent there it's almost embarrassing that she didn't know what it was these schoolboys were on about. She was much too preoccupied with studying Marius. The way his eyes lit up when the blond man finished a particularly rousing speech and him and the other amis jumped to their feet in jubilant cheers. The way his expression became thoughtful when he was examining some plans and his freckled forehead wrinkled.

Éponine was nearly to the top of the stairs when she slammed face first into the broad, muscles chest of a man on his way down. Her waif like body would have been thrown backwards if it weren't for the man's strong hands that shot out to grab her waist and hold her upright. She looked up into an electrifying pair of stormy blue eyes. She immediately recognized the man to be the blond leader of the band of schoolboys.

"My apologies," he said quickly, releasing his grip on Éponine's tiny waist. He noticed the bruise forming across her cheekbone, but made the conscious decision not to ask her about it. He knew enough of her family and had seen her around the café enough times as she hovered around Marius, almost orbiting him the way the Earth orbits the sun, it's life force. He pitied the poor girl, Marius didn't look at her with nearly the same amount of enthusiasm that was in her loving gaze. This sadly wasn't the first time he'd seen her with some sort of injury.

Éponine had never seen him up close before, he had never been more than a blur waving his arms about excitedly in her peripheral vision, but now that she really looked at him, she was taken aback. With his golden curls and strong features, the man was not only angelically handsome, he was breathtaking. Realizing she was staring with her mouth gaping open unbecomingly at a man of much higher social status, Éponine promptly averted her gaze, looking self-consciously at her hands.

"I'm so very sorry, Monsieur, I must really learn to pay better attention," she murmured.

The beautiful man simply nodded and stepped around her to continue descending the stairs. Éponine watched him go before climbing the final steps to the amis meeting place, her eyes scanned the room and landed on Marius' laughing face. It felt as though a weight had been lifted from her chest and she breathed a sigh of relief as she crossed the room soundlessly to greet him.

"Bonjour monsieur," she whispered, standing on her tiptoes to bring her lips closer to his ear. He turned and flashed a smile at her, making her heart swell.

"Éponine," he breathed, "have you perchance seen Enjolras?"

"Who?"

"The leader of the revolution, constantly giving speeches about how we must overthrow the king and make France a republic. Surely you must know of Enjolras, Éponine, he's trying to help people like you who live in the streets," he explained.

"Oh," she laughed, "Of course. Yes he was leaving when I came in."

"Leaving? How peculiar, Enjolras is typically here until the wee hours of the morning." Marius turned back to the other boys and his words finally registered to Éponine. Revolution? That's what they're planning? But a revolution would mean fighting and blood spilled. Surely her beloved Marius wasn't involved in planning something as dangerous as overthrowing the government with a random bunch of schoolboys. She would like nothing more than for the monarchy to be abolished, but the thought of Marius being on the front lines of a barricade horrified her entirely.

A sudden rage boiled up inside Éponine. What gave Enjolras the power to enlist his friends into a war fighting for people none of them could possibly understand. He clearly had a great influence over the young men in the room. From what she remembered of his speeches and their exhilarated reactions, he was eloquent with his words and fervent about what he spoke of. Now she knew that his subject of choice was the poor. She was a street rat, but looking around the room it was easy enough to tell that these young men were all well off. Obviously well enough to be getting an education. They couldn't possibly understand the hardships of living on the street. These boys were sentencing themselves to death.

She waved a quick goodbye and scurried back out onto the streets. Enjolras couldn't have gotten too far. She had to find him. He was their leader; she had to make him end this.

**A/N: Well that's one chapter, I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think!**


	2. Uniting the People

**A/N: Here's another chapter for you. Enjoy!**

She couldn't help but wonder what a man like Enjolras was doing organizing a revolution. He had all the privilege in the world and everything going for him. Why did he care about the people like her who were forced to steal and lie in order to survive? If anything, a golden boy –both literally with his curls, and figuratively with his high prestige- should be disgusted by the scum of the streets like so many bourgeois. Yet he was dedicating his time to making the country a better place for them. Éponine simply couldn't wrap her head around it. She was wondering around the relatively unoccupied streets of Paris, still searching for this man she barely knew. She wasn't sure she would be able to find him tonight, the sun was quickly going down behind the high buildings. She knew she would be able to find him at the café tomorrow, but she wanted to challenge him one on one while her argument was still fresh in her mind and her anger over Marius being put it harms way still heated her heart. Surely she could convince him, after all, it was her people he was fighting for. If he refuses to listen to her he must surely be a fool.

Éponine shivered from the chill of the oncoming night and wrapped her arms around herself for warmth as she continued down an alley many people were using as a resting place for the night. On the other side, the street had almost completely emptied, only a few filth-covered citizens occupied it. She stopped and stood in the centre of the road trying to think of were a man like Enjolras would go. Were he would live.

Suddenly, strong arms grabbed her from behind and a hand clamped tightly over her mouth before she could make a sound.

"What's a little lady such as yourself doin' wanderin' around in the dark all alone?" a gruff voice whispered in her ear. The man pushed her fragile body up against the wall of a building. He removed his hand from her mouth and began pulling at her dress. Though she knew help would likely not come, she screamed for it anyways and she struggled with the grubby looking man, trying to fight him off to no avail. He had at least a hundred pounds on her and probably a good twenty years as well.

Éponine spit in her attackers face and he was suddenly pulled away from her. Her eyes widened as she took in Enjolras throwing the man to the ground with enough force to knock him unconscious. She hadn't even seen him come upon the scene. Éponine remained with her back pressed into the bricks, her breathing wild and ragged.

"Are you alright Madmoiselle?" Enjolras asked, shifting his focus to her now that he was certain the other man would not be bothering them for a while.

"Thanks to you, monsieur," she replied quietly. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she was determined not to let them fall. He would never take her seriously if she began sobbing in front of him. She could take it, this wasn't the first time a man tried to forcibly get under her skirt.

"Are you certain? Do you need a doctor?" His voice did not contain the sympathy or pity one might expect considering the situation. Instead, it was as if he were listing off random facts, sort of detached and clinical. Yet, his concern still managed to seem genuine somehow. He seemed to be unsurprised to find her in such as position and he glanced back disgustedly at the man on the ground behind him.

"I'm fine, monsieur. Thank you."

"Well," he began, looking anywhere but her, "good then."

Éponine looked down self-consciously only to realize why Enjolras had been averting his eyes. The skirt of her dress was hiked up, revealing much of the bare, bruised, dirt caked skin of her left leg. She blushed furiously and yanked it down harshly. "Thank you again, Monsieur. I was actually hoping to find you tonight."

This statement caused Enjolras' eyebrows to rise. "Whatever for?" he questioned.

"Well you see, monsieur, I've just become aware of you intent to start a revolution. I know you wish to help beggars like me but you must know that it's a terrible idea trying to overthrow the king."

His eyes narrowed into disapproving slits. "What causes you to feel that way?"

"You're all going to die."

The bluntness of her statement caught him off guard. He had face much disapproval of his plan, but to be told so abruptly by this random girl was a shock to him. It was _her_ people he was trying to help. "Some will fall at the barricades, yes, but their sacrifice will be well worth it when France is reborn without the monarchy and these binding class distinctions."

"That's quite a fantasy, monsieur. But that fantasy will get young men, such as yourself, mercilessly killed by the National Guard. The people of Paris aren't ready for another revolution. They're still living in fear and won't want to upset things as they are even if what you hope to accomplish is everything they have ever dreamed of."

"You speak very well for a gamine," he said, this time surprising Éponine and venturing the conversation into more personal territory.

"I've never spent anytime in a classroom, but spending time with your friends is an education in itself," she stated truthfully. She enjoyed listening to their conversations and picking up new words and then using them herself in an attempt to impress Marius. She didn't need to admit that part to Enjolras though. "So will you call it off monsieur?"

"Call what off?"

"The revolution."

"Of course not," he stated as if it were painfully obvious, "this is exactly what France needs and the people are ready to make a better life for themselves. You of all people should understand, living in deplorable conditions such as these-" he gestures to the few people sleeping in doorways, "-is no way for anyone to live."

"You don't understand anything," Éponine sputtered angrily, "You have never gone a single day not knowing where you're going to rest your pretty head at night. You've never been forced to steal from some innocent person who simply had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time so that you have enough money to buy the smallest amount of food, barely enough to sustain you. When you get hunger, monsieur, you eat. The people living out here have never _not_ felt the gnawing pain of hunger. While, you, I'm sure have most likely complained on an occasion or two of being _too_ full." She laughed bitterly, shaking her head at him in disgust. "Do you really understand the people you say you're fighting for monsieur?"

"I never want anyone to have to live through the things you have lived through mademoiselle," he murmured, looking intently at her, his hard exterior had cracked slightly and there was an emotion in his eyes that Éponine couldn't place, "that is precisely my reasoning behind this revolution and you are exactly what I need to unite the people. I need you to spread the word. To inform the people that change is approaching fro there is one thing I agree with you on: our barricade will need all the support it can get."

**A/N: Read & review!**


	3. He Had Her

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who followed or favourited this story! I hope you like this chapter. I probably won't be able to keep up this pace with updating, but I will definitely post a new chapter at least once a week **

Éponine wasn't easily swayed to Enjolras' side. They spoke for what must have been hours, walking slowly through the dark, abandoned streets. Initially she interjected quite often, cutting off his train of thought to argue with him about the points he was making, but as time went on her interruptions became less and less frequent. She found herself getting swept up in his impassioned ramblings about the state of the country. His words were so filled with thoughtfulness and determination, Éponine could tell he'd thought out every aspect of his plan very thoroughly and it was now painfully obvious to her why he was the leader.

Everything from his broad, commanding stance to the fire blazing in his icy blue eyes demanded attention. His words, so sure, so honest, sparked a fire in the heart of anyone listening.

Éponine could not pinpoint the exact moment he'd won her over, but by the time he stopped short at the end of the road they'd been walking and turned to face her, she knew he had her. And he knew it too.

"So you'll spread the word of the revolution?" he asked softly, gazing down at her. "You'll try to gain us the support of the people living out here in the streets?"

Éponine sighed heavily. She couldn't believe she set out to make him put an end to this and was now about to promise to help him. But she knew he was right, even if it put Marius' life at risk. After all, Enjolras was proudly risking his life too. "Yes, I'll talk to everyone I can."

"Excellent," his marble face cracked and a broad smile spread like wildfire across it, somehow he was even more glorious. "Really, Éponine, this will be a huge help to our cause."

"I didn't think you knew my name." She blushed and returned his smile.

"Of course I do," he stated, ignoring her flattered expression, "I make it my business to know the names of the people sitting in on my revolutionary meetings. I asked Marius about you when I first saw you hanging around the café, but he assured me you were harmless." He shrugged somewhat indifferently.

Normally her heart would soar hearing that Marius had spoken of her, but it was already beating a little erratically as she admired the contours of the leaders face. His gold curls shone in the moonlight and a stony unattachment had replaced the light in his eyes now that he was done speaking of his cause. She had never thought of a man as beautiful before, handsome sure, but Enjolras was more than that. He was tall and broad shouldered and everything about him exuded confidence and certainty. When he spoke people hung on his every word. When he walked down the street, women couldn't help but watch. He was absolutely striking. Yet, Éponine could tell he didn't care, that his interests were deeper than the surface.

Enjolras spoke again, startling her out of her trance. He figured she was daydreaming at the mention of Marius' name. "Can I walk you home, mademoiselle?"

"That's a very kind offer monsieur, but there is no home for you to walk me to," she said reluctantly. She didn't want him to pity her.

"Surely you must rest your head somewhere."

"I'll spend the night here." She gestured to the alley where she could see a few familiar faces fast asleep huddled on the ground.

Enjolras stared down the alley sadly. He wished desperately he could offer her better accommodations, but he wasn't about to invite her into his home. Not only because it would be highly inappropriate, but also because he somehow knew she would reject his offer anyways. She didn't want to be a charity case. He looked down at her slight figure clothed in a brown ratty dress. Her bare arms were covered in goose bumps, but she didn't seem to notice. He watched as her brown hair ruffled slightly in the February wind. She was a pretty girl despite the dirt imbedded in her skin and the now fully formed bruise across her cheekbone. There was a light in her chocolate brown eyes, a sense of hope on the horizon, despite her unfortunate situation. He admired her will.

Éponine could feel his eyes examining her and couldn't help but wonder what he thought or her filthy appearance. It was always slightly embarrassing to spend time around the clean, well-clothed boys at the café and standing in front of Enjolras in his brilliant red jacket, looking clean shaven and well fed, only exacerbated that feeling. He probably thought she was just a pathetic street rat desperately in love with a boy she could never have.

"Alright," he sighed, "I'm glad you have joined in our revolutionary efforts. Goodnight mademoiselle."

"Goodnight monsieur."

Enjolras retreated backwards slowly, watching Éponine drift over to the alley where she would spend the night shivering, her body curled up into a tight ball. He sighed and spun around, heading straight for home though his thoughts were still with her. She could potentially be a huge help to the revolution if she could convince any of the people living on the streets to stand behind him. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought about asking her earlier.

Éponine found an unoccupied doorway and eased herself to the ground. Since she not only failed miserably at convincing Enjolras to call off the revolution, but actually agreed to help him with it, she now knew she somehow had to inspire the people to rise to the occasion. If enough people stood behind the amis more lives could be spared; Marius' life could be spared. Once the monarchy is abolished, maybe she would be able to get off the streets. Maybe Marius would finally look at her the way she'd always dreamed of. She curled up on her side, using her arm as a pillow and quickly fell asleep, dreaming of what her life could be.

**A/N: Please let me know what you think so far!**


	4. Oh Mon Dieu

**A/N: Thank you everyone for reading! This chapter throws Enjolras out of his comfort zone a bit so read on and let me know what you think. And just to warn you, there's some M-rated content to kickstart this chapter.**

_Their hands made quick work tugging off articles of clothing and throwing them aside in between impassioned kisses and moans of desire and longing. They fell back on to the red sheets and Éponine fervently kissed, nipped, and sucked at Enjolras' neck and expansive shoulders as their bodies became one. Enjolras broke off the kiss, his breath rapid, his heart pounding in his chest. Éponine's fingers had matted themselves in the hair at the back of his head and she used her grip on him to pull his lips roughly back to hers. Their bodies a mesmerizing tangle of limbs and sheets, he had never wanted anyone so badly in all his life. His hands explored her tiny body, grabbing at the back of her bare thigh to wrap her leg around his lower back before continuing to slide his hand up over her hip and then across her ribcage. He could feel her panting breath and fluttering heartbeat beneath his trembling fingertips. Their bodies moved rhythmically together, backs arched, legs tensed, hands desperately searching the others form. "Oh mon dieu," Éponine moaned softly and Enjolras felt her thighs begin to tremble against his sides. He picked up his pace grunting quietly, the pleasure building inside them both. _

"Enjolras!" yelled a man's voice, giving Enjolras' heart a start and causing him to fall backwards in his chair. He slammed into the wooden floorboards and rolled onto his side to regain the breath that had been knocked out of him on impact. He slowly rose to his feet, cracking his back rather loudly in the process. Every pair of eyes in the room were trained on him.

"Not enough sleep last night?" Combeferre laughed.

"Safe to say it wasn't a woman keeping you up late, eh Enjolras?" Courfeyrac joked, slapping his friend playfully on the back.

"Of course not," Enjolras muttered, his face turning bright red. None of the men had seen him blush before. It was a rather odd sight for them to take in, their fearless leader had never been embarrassed before, he was usually so on top of everything and emotionally guarded. "Back to work." The boys chuckled at his flustered appearance, but returned to their musings over a map.

From the corner of his eye, Enjolras saw Éponine's petite frame rise from the chair she was seated in. She stared curiously at his flaming cheeks only causing them to burn brighter. He found himself unable to meet her gaze as he floundered to get back to whatever work he was doing before he had dozed off. In the back of his mind he was aware that he had not seen Éponine all day until that point and that she must have come in while he was asleep. He wanted to ask her if she had spoken to any beggars about joining the revolution, but the embarrassment over what had just occurred in his mind kept him firmly in his place on the opposite side of the room from the young woman.

He tried to focus on the task at hand, but his mind couldn't stop wandering back to that dream. He didn't understand where it even came from; he'd only had one real conversation with the girl for crying out loud. But now that the thought had entered his mind, he couldn't shake it. The dream had forced him to look at her in a different way, and now that he had that version of her in his head he knew he couldn't look at her as the simple urchin girl he'd spoken to the previous night.

Éponine pushed back her chair and drifted over to Enjolras' table on the other side of the room. He had his nose buried deep within a book and he didn't see her approach.

"Monsieur," she said softly to get his attention. He didn't look up, his brow was furrowed and he stared almost angrily at the page before him, but he didn't appear to be reading it. It looked more to her like he was very deep in thought. She reached over and took the book from his hands, his head immediately snapped up in response, but his eyes only landed on her for a fraction of a second before he looked away again. Éponine swore she could see his cheeks reddening, but it was a total mystery to her as to why that would be.

He coughed awkwardly, "Can I help you with something?" He still wouldn't look at her.

"I just wanted to inform you that I spoke to some of the people on the street today. They all seemed really excited about your plans, though they had troubled believing that a bunch of rich boys were really willing to put their lives on the line for their sake."

His mouth turned up slightly at the corners as he surveyed the room. "Do you think they will rise to help us?"

"I think they might, monsieur, but-" she stopped. Éponine began to grow angry that the man refused to meet her gaze. She didn't understand his strange behavior; he didn't seem to have a problem looking her in the eye the night before. Was it because he was in front of all these people now? Was he embarrassed to be seen associating with her? "Do we have a problem, monsieur?" she practically growled at him.

Her ferocious tone caught him off guard, forcing him to finally look at her. Her eyebrows were set in an angry line and her nostrils were flared. Enjolras actually thought that she looked rather disgusted by him. "I'm sorry?" he questioned.

"I'm here to tell you good news. I thought you wanted my help, but now you seem to be having trouble even looking in my general direction. Are you so horrified by the thought of people seeing you speaking to a street rat like me? Do you think you'll lose their respect if you're caught associating with the likes of me? That doesn't even make sense if you expect to be fighting on behalf of people even more disgusting to look at then myself!"

"Keep your voice down mademoiselle, you are ferociously overreacting!"

"You asked for my help monsieur, do you want it or not?"

Enjolras sighed heavily, looking deeply into Éponine's tense brown eyes. "Yes I do. I'm sorry mademoiselle, I suppose I'm a bit… distracted."

She huffed loudly and rolled her eyes, but she seemed to be considerably calmer.

"I really do appreciate your help," Enjolras murmured, still maintaining eye contact. Some undecipherable emotion in his eyes sent tingles up her spine.

**A/N: Thanks for your reviews, keep them coming! By the way "oh mon dieu"= Oh my god.**


	5. Dreamer

**A/N: I want to thank you all SOO very much for following/favouriting/reviewing, it really means a lot to me! This might be my favourite chapter so far.**

Éponine woke with a start. He father's hand gripped the top of her arm hauling her off the ground. "What have you go for me today m'dear?" he grumbled.

She frantically searched her pockets for the franc she had pickpocketed the night before, knowing her father would find her again soon enough. Her hands seized the coin and she apprehensively presented it to him, knowing it would not be enough for her to escape a beating.

"A single franc?" he boomed, "You've lost your touch Éponine. What am I going to do with you?" His hand was now at her throat, pinning her to the wall. She struggled beneath his grasp, her fingers desperately grabbing at the hand on her throat. Tears streamed soundlessly down her panicked face. After what felt like a very long time, he dropped his hand and turned to walk away, but stopped to warn her, "bring more next time or I might not stop."

Éponine fell to her knees gasping to fill her aching lungs. She ran her trembling fingers across her neck, feeling the slight indent where her father's rough hand had been. She sat still for a long time, concentrating on the feeling of air moving in and out of her chest before she decided to save herself from her father's wrath next time he came for her. She picked herself up off the cold cobblestones and drifted out onto the bustling streets in search of a victim. Spotting a young and lost-looking bourgeois boy standing outside of a shop and started in his direction.

"Oops, please excuse me monsieur, I'm terribly clumsy," she lied smoothly, feigning embarrassment after bumping into the boy while simultaneously slipping her hand into his pocket and finding more coins that she had expected.

The boy blushed. "Quite alright mademoiselle," he mumbled before walking away.

Éponine opened her hand and quickly counted her loot. 13 francs. She gaped at the handful of coins before quickly shoving them into her pocket. That was even enough for her to buy herself something to eat and still be enough to satisfy her father. She rushed over to a man selling bread and bought herself a bun. It was a little stale, but Éponine couldn't complain, it made her feel better than she had in quite a while.

She decided to spend the rest of the afternoon talking to as many people as she could about the amis revolutionary plans. If this was the only way she could help the cause, she would do everything she could.

Enjolras looked tiredly out the window of café Musain. The sun was going down behind the buildings, yet the amis were still hard at work. It had been a long day that started with him leading a rally in front of the café and was now ending with them going over, once again, where they planned on erecting their barricade. They needed a sign, some event to breathe life into the revolution. They had to be prepared for when that event came.

As the hours dragged on, his fellow revolutionaries slowly filtered out until it was just him, as per usual. He paced back and forth between the tables practicing his next speech aloud. As he finished, the sound of clapping made his head snap up. Éponine stood alone at the top of the stairs, her petite hands creating the noise he had heard. A small smiled tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"Very good, monsieur," she stated, "certainly one of your best."

"How long were you standing there?"

"I got here around 'it is time for the people of Paris to rise again and reclaim their freedom!'" she laughed.

Enjolras cleared his throat in discomfort. He must have said that several minutes ago at least, how had he not noticed her arrival? "Well hopefully the people will enjoy it as much as you did. We're having another rally in a few days time. Do you think you could spread the word? We had a reasonable turn out today, but we need more support, we need to increase public awareness."

"I'll tell everyone I can."

"Thank you mademoiselle."

They stood in silence for a moment, both of them staring awkwardly in different directions. Éponine finally voiced what was on her mind, "You're the first to call me that."

Enjolras' brow furrowed at her vague comment. "To call you what?"

"Mademoiselle," she whispered feeling suddenly embarrassed that she was addressing their class difference.

"Well that is what you are Éponine."

"No. I'm a gamine. A street-urchin. A beggar. A man such as yourself would not normally refer to me so respectfully."

He churned over her words in his mind for a moment. "Well, I suppose that is one of the many things I disagree with. Why should the amount of money a person has determine how much respect they are given when spoken to?"

She couldn't help but smile at him. She felt as though someone finally saw her the way she wanted to be seen. He was the most attractive man she'd ever laid eyes on –including Marius- and she knew he was also the wealthiest of the amis. He had every reason to treat her like the dirt that she was and yet he treated her with more respect than anyone ever had in her entire life. She felt an unbelievable swell of gratitude overcome her.

"You have no idea how much that means to me," she finally murmured, looking at the floor to hide her blushing cheeks.

"It's the way the world should be," he replied simply with a quick shrug of his shoulders.

"You're a dreamer," she declared, the smile on her face widening. "Everyone thinks you're made of stone. That your heart only beats for Patria… But you care. You dream of equality and you feel a great sense of responsibility to the people, don't you?" Her voice became thoughtful, "Why is that? Do you feel guilty because you were born with privilege?"

Enjolras gaped at her. He felt completely lost for words. No one had ever made such observations about him before; no one truly questioned his motives –his p_ersonal_ motives. He blinked repeatedly trying to formulate a response. Éponine just watched him think, her eyes wide with wonder and innocence. She was genuinely curious. No one seemed to really _know_ this man; he seemed to live mostly in his own head unless it was about the revolution. It was obvious the other amis greatly cared for and admired him, and that he valued their friendship in return, but it was clear that Enjolras didn't discuss his feelings with them.

When he finally opened his mouth to respond, "You're very observant," was all he said. Éponine didn't push him on it, she didn't want to make him uncomfortable and she realized it was rather rude of her to be so inquisitive in the first place.

"I apologize for the intrusion monsi-" she started to say, but Enjolras cut her off.

"What happened to your neck?" he questioned, finally noticing the purple bruising on the young woman's throat.

Éponine's hand flew up to cover the marks. "It's nothing," she replied hastily, but he didn't listen to her. He crossed the room in a few long strides and gently pulled her hand away from the injury. Her heart raced at his touch and electricity shot down Enjolras' spine. He ignored the feeling and examined her bruising.

"You were choked," he uttered matter-of-factly. "Who did this to you?"

"Please monsieur," she whispered so he couldn't hear her voice break, "don't concern yourself with my problems, you have much larger ones on your plate."

"Oh Éponine," he sighed, running his fingers across the bruising as gently as possible so as not to hurt her further. "No one should be allowed to put their hands on you this way."

His fingers raised goose bumps on her skin and she had to choke back tears at his concern. Most people were so used to seeing her injured that they never commented on it anymore. Even when they had, they had never told her that she didn't deserve to be treated that way.

Enjolras glanced up from her neck, meeting her brown eyes. Tears sat on the rim, threatening to spill over. He could tell from the clean trails left in the dirt on her cheeks that she had already cried because of it earlier. He put a hand on her shoulder, unsure of how to comfort her. His gentle touch caused Éponine to lose it. She threw herself into his chest; ragged sobs shook her entire body. He wrapped his arms around the frail young woman. He noted that it felt surprisingly natural to hold her little body. He'd never had a girl crying in his arms before, but he wanted nothing more than to take away her pain.

After a few moments, her crying quieted and she raised her head, wiping away her tears with embarrassment. A shocking realization donned on Enjolras: he didn't want to let her go.

**A/N: I was having some major writers block when I started this chapter, but once I got into their conversation, I couldn't stop and this turned out to be the longest chapter yet! Let me know what you thought!**


	6. La Renaissance d'Éponine

**A/N: Thanks for your reviews, keep them coming! **

"Nous partageons le rêve de la renaissance. We must unite to make this dream a reality. It is time for Franc to be reborn!" Enjolras shouted and the crowd erupted into applause and a chorus of "Vive la France!" was chanted by the people as they threw their fists into the air.

It was a week later and Éponine had certainly come through on her promise to spread the word about the rally. There must have been hundreds of people surrounding the small impromptu stage on which Enjolras was standing. He gazed down at them proudly, feeling a renewed sense of confidence in his revolutionary efforts. It was now early March and he had began to wonder when their plans would become actions. He still awaited a sign. Certainly there must be something to spark the desire for change in the hearts of the people.

He descended from the stage and was congratulated by the amis who were waiting nearby. He smiled at them briefly, but his eyes scanned the crowd for the person he really wanted to see. "Éponine," he sighed when he caught her eye as she walked towards him, "thank you, this turn out is more than I ever could have expected."

"It was nothing, monsieur," she replied with a smile, her dimples showing. "Once you tell a few people, the information kind of spreads itself. You've got people eating out of the palm of your hand."

They turned without another word and walked back to the café Musain. They hadn't spoken much since they had awkwardly disentangled from each other's embrace the previous week. Surely it had just been a strange, one-time situation, Éponine thought, after all she was crying and he was just trying to be polite by comforting her. It couldn't possibly mean anything to him; he must have been horribly uncomfortable with the poor girl sobbing into his shirt. But he didn't seem thrown by it; at least not with the way he smiled at her now as they bantered while they walked. It felt natural to be around him and she found it easy to talk to him. He asked her opinions on all sorts of things and seemed to be genuinely interested in her responses. No one had ever taken such an interest in her thoughts and ideas before.

Truthfully, he found her fascinating. Enjolras enjoyed hearing what she had to say and she seemed willing enough to express her opinions to him. His favourite part though was watching the expressions flash across her pretty face. She was very expressive, sometimes the faces she made had him choking back laughter, and other times they made him wonder what was going on in her mind at that moment. She was witty and thoughtful and he already knew how observant she could be. Somehow, he felt relieved speaking with her again. He had been unable to get that night out of his head. After Éponine had left the café he sat there alone for several hours more, but he was unable to get any further work done. The feeling of her head resting against his chest as he encircled her with his strong arms wouldn't leave his mind. He knew it meant nothing to her though, she was simply feeling vulnerable and alone; she'd been hurt a lot in her life, it made sense for her to break down, he was just the only one around. She seemed very embarrassed afterwards and had rushed out quickly. She probably feared that she'd given him the wrong idea. Enjolras shook his head to dispel the thought as he held open the door of the café to allow Éponine to enter. They reached the top of the stairs at the same time, both smiling and laughing about their conversation.

"What's this?" Grantaire gaped over exaggeratedly, his eyes wide as he took in the pair of them, "our fearless leader jokes? And with… with a woman no less?" Unsurprisingly, he had a liquor bottle in his hand and took a swig of it.

Enjolras and Éponine both flushed slightly and stepped away from each other. A few of the men laughed at Grantaire's joking and everyone continued to poke fun at Enjolras for a while longer. Éponine drifted over to where Marius was seated and planted herself down in the empty chair next to him.

"When did you and Enjolras become so close?" he questioned her.

"Why? Are you jealous?" she responded rolling her eyes at him playful.

"No," he retorted nippily, his freckled face appeared to be pouting. "You just seem particularly chummy."

"I'm helping him get people aware and involved in this revolution you're planning Marius. No need to get nippy because you're jealous over losing my attention." Her tone was still teasing, but part of her wondered how much truth there was to what she was saying. It angered her a little that he didn't seem to be arguing her point. He didn't want to be with her, he had no right to demand her constant attention and affection. She haughtily shoved her chair back, feeling disrespected.

After striding quickly away from him, she stopped dead in her tracks and leaned her back against the wall. She couldn't believe she had reacted that way, that she'd actually gotten angry and Marius for acting selfish and treating her poorly. She had let him get away with similar actions in the past without so much as a word against him. She should be used to being treated badly, and she was, but for some reason when Marius acted that way she had felt a surge of dignity and an inkling of that she deserved to be treated better. She looked up and saw Enjolras eyeing her with concern from across the room.

It was because of him, she realized suddenly. It was Enjolras. He gave her back her dignity by treating her so respectfully and telling her how much better she deserved. He was fighting for the rebirth of France, but had helped Éponine, herself, be reborn. She felt happy tears prick her eyes, but she wouldn't let them fall. Instead she smiled reassuringly back the beautiful, golden haired Apollo.

**A/N: Yay another chapter done! By the way, "nous partageons le rêve de la renaissance" means "we share the dream of rebirth". Please review!**


	7. Stay With Me

**A/N: This is another long chapter for your reading pleasure and though it's slowly building, there are some interesting new developments in their relationship in this chapter. PLEASE REVIEW!**

It was two weeks later when Éponine walked into the café around one in the morning looking specifically for Enjolras and knowing he would be the only one there at that hour. She couldn't face any of the other men in her current state. In the past she would have gone off and dealt with it on her own, but now she didn't feel like she had to. She climbed the steps slowly, wincing at pain caused by the movement. Reaching the top, she paused for a moment admiring the only man in the room. Enjolras sat with his back to her, leaning over a large book. His jacket was thrown over the back of the chair and the sleeves of his shirt were pushed up to his elbows. His usually smooth looking curls were disheveled. Éponine shifted her weight causing the floorboards to creak beneath her bare feet. The noise caused Enjolras to glance back and the second his eyes took her in, he was on his feet and at her side a moment later. She could see the dark circles under his eyes as he wordlessly examined the cut on her forehead and she wondered how many nights he'd gone without sleep.

He lightly took her hand, Éponine livened at his touch, the sensation of his skin on hers overriding the pain she felt and made her instantly feel comforted. Enjolras' pulse quickened as well as he led her to a chair for her to rest. He noticed how she limped and whimpered in pain as she walked. Her normally ratty dress was torn and bloodied.

"How badly are you hurt Éponine? What did he do to you?" he whispered, not trusting his voice.

"Just the cut and some bruises," she muttered, before taking a deep breath that caused her to yelp. "And possibly a broken rib or two."

Enjolras was kneeling in front of the chair she was seated in, his full lips pressed into a tense line. Éponine could tell he was silently fuming, but she didn't come here to anger him. He glanced up at her sad expression and instantly softened. "I'm sorry" she murmured, "I didn't know where else to go."

"No don't apologize, I'm glad you came and found me." He slowly lifted his hand to cradle her cheek, gauging her reaction. She turned her face into his touch and closed her eyes with a sigh. "I'm going to go get Joly, you need someone to take a look at this cut and bandage your ribs," he replied, "Wait here."

"But-" Éponine started.

"I'll be back very quickly, I promise." He stood up and started for the stairs, but paused and turned back to her. He bent down and lightly pressed his lips to her cheek for a very brief moment before spinning on his heal and leaving the café.

The skin where his lips had touched felt as if it were on fire. Éponine had to press her hand there to assure herself it wasn't. A light smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Her parents used to kiss her face when she was little and they still gave a damn about her. She couldn't remember the last time someone had planted a caring kiss on her cheek and she hadn't realized until then that she had forgotten just how nice it felt. She slowly leaned back in her chair, careful not to offend her aching ribs.

Enjolras kept his promise. He returned with Joly within 20 minutes and he immediately began tending to her injuries?

"I think this cut is going to need a couple stiches," he stated after a brief examination of her forehead wound. "This should numb the area." He rubbed some sort of cream across her skin and began preparing his needle and thread while waiting for the cream to take affect. Enjolras watched his friend very closely, scrutinizing his every move. After a few moments he turned back to her with a reassuring smile on his face. "I promise you won't feel a thing Éponine."

She felt a pang of nervousness as the needle neared her face. Her eyes darted to Enjolras who, she realized, had been staring at her intensely. Noticing the panic in her expression, he reached out and firmly grasped her hand. Joly regarded the exchange with a smirk, but did not say anything. Feeling the pressure of the needle entering her skin, she closed her eyes and squeezed the large, rough hand that she held in her petite one.

Joly finished quickly and as he'd assured her, she had felt no pain. He then requested that she lie flat on the floor. "Is it alright if I examine your ribs?" he asked politely. Éponine gave him a confused look. "It may come across as improper for a man such as myself who is not yet a physician to make that request of you. I want to be sure you're okay with me viewing that part of your anatomy."

"Oh," she breathed, "Yes, of course. I trust you." She gave him a friendly smile. A rip in her dress allowed her to expose her damaged ribs to him without removing her dress or exposing too much of herself. He inspected the bruises forming across her ribcage and very gently prodded them, stopping and apologizing each time Éponine winced. She looked over and saw Enjolras standing with his back to them, she almost laughed. "You may look if you wish monsieur," her tone was teasing, "I assure you I'm not entirely indecent."

He looked over his shoulder, but did not turn around fully. Seeing the purple colour of her flesh, his face tensed angrily. She didn't have to say the words for him to know that it was her father who did this to her. The bastard didn't deserve to live let alone be responsible for anyone's wellbeing.

"Well I believe you have two broken ribs mademoiselle," Joly stated. "I'll wrap them for you but you're going to need to take it easy for the next couple weeks so that they can heal properly, do you understand?" Éponine nodded and let him help her up from the floor. He looked in his bag and pulled out a roll of bandages. "I'm going to need to undress partially for this mademoiselle."

Enjolras quickly turned his head away again. Éponine knew he wanted to be respectful, but she couldn't help but giggle at the way his cheeks were flushed at the thought of her removing her clothes. With both men's eyes safely averted, she slipped her dress off her shoulders and let the fabric collect at her waist. She placed her hands over her small breasts and whispered her readiness to Joly. He came to her side and began tightly wrapping the bandages from just below her breasts to her waist. When he was finished, he turned away again to allow her a chance to redress.

Fully clothed and feeling well taken care of, she extended her sincerest thanks to Joly before viewing Enjolras still facing the other direction. "Enjolras," she said softly.

"Yes?" he asked without turning around.

"You may look now. I'm fully clothed."

He spun around and regarded her. She had dried blood on her face and all over her tattered dress, but she was standing up straighter again and looked decidedly happier. "Indeed you are." He blushed slightly.

"Well," Joly began, "I'll be headed home now; as should the two of you. Éponine, rest for a few days, okay?"

She nodded her response. "Thank you again, Joly. You will be a wonderful doctor."

"Merci," he said with a smile. "Goodnight to you both."

"Bon soir," Éponine and Enjolras replied simultaneously.

Once he was gone, Éponine closed the distance between her and the glorious blond leader she'd come to trust more than anyone. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. There was no hesitation on his part either and she felt his arms immediately encircle her.

"Stay with me," he whispered.

"We'll have to leave at some point," she laughed, "You look like you've been up for days."

"No. I mean stay in my apartment with me. At least for a few days. You heard Joly, he said you needed to rest and take it easy. You can't do that if you're out on the streets."

"Enjolras," Éponine sighed, pulling away slightly to look him in the eye. "You don't need to do that. Really, I'll be fine."

"I insist."

"I respectfully decline."

"Stay."

"No."

"Stay."

She went silent for several moments, staring into his endless blue eyes. She pulled him back into the embrace. "Alright," She whispered.

**A/N: OOOOOhhhh… Please let me know what you think? Any predictions of what might happen? Also, I've realized a couple spelling and grammar mistakes in the previous chapters that I'm going to go back and fix so let me know if you spot any **


	8. Internal Confessions

**A/N: Thank you all for following! I hope you're enjoying it so far, please let me know in the reviews!**

The key turned in the lock with a click. Enjolras turned the doorknob and pushed it open silently, gesturing for Éponine to enter. She stepped into the apartment and took in her surroundings with wide eyes. It was modest of course, just like the occupant, but tasteful and homey. There was a small kitchen, living room, and washroom. His bedroom was at the end of a narrow hallway. A good sized bed was centered against the far wall and occupied most of the space except for a wooden desk and chair in the corner that was piled high with books and papers. The closet door hung open slightly and she could see rows of jackets and shirts and trousers inside. There were at least five pillows on his unmade bed, the sheets were a bright crimson and the bedding was thrown about haphazardly, causing Éponine to think he was a restless sleeper.

She looked back at the owner of this home. He was watching her take in her surroundings. She'd never been in such comfortable living conditions and she'd never had a real bed let alone one with multiple pillows and clean sheets. "You can take the bed," he told her, "I'll sleep on the couch."

"No, no," Éponine rejected his offer, "I'm already putting you out by staying here; I'm not going to take your bed too. I can sleep on the couch."

"Nonsense." We walked over to the bed and pulled the sheets back. "Climb in."

She dragged her feet begrudgingly as she made her way over, but she didn't want to fight him on it anymore, in all honesty she was wondering what it would feel like to lie down on the plushy matress. She climbed on to the bed and he pulled the blankets over her frail body. His hand touched her cheek briefly. "Goodnight Éponine. I'll be out in the living room if you need anything. Please do not be afraid to ask."

"Thank you," she yawned and sunk deeper into the mattress, feeling truly relaxed for the first time in a very long time. "Goodnight Enjolras."

He turned and walked out of the room, leaving the door open only a crack behind him. Éponine rolled over and fell asleep almost instantly. She had never been so comfortable I all her life, she could get used to sleeping in a bed like this.

A scream pierced the silence and jolted Enjolras upright. His quick movement caused him to fall right off the couch. He stood up and glanced around, but it was too dark in the room to see anything. The scream rang out again, it was coming from his bedroom. He ran down the hall and burst through the door. Éponine was thrashing about in his bed shrieking with tears streaming down her face.

Enjolras gripped her shoulders. "Éponine," he called trying to wake her. He shook her gently and her eyes popped open.

"Enjolras?" she whispered, her voice full of pain and exhaustion.

"Are you alright? Were you having a nightmare?"

"It was my father," she sobbed, sitting up in the bed. "He was- has was attacking me. And- and choking me. I thought he was going to-to kill me."

Enjolras sat down on the bed next to her and rubbed her back soothingly. Éponine buried her face into his chest and attempted to quiet her sobs, which caused her broken ribs to ache painfully. "It was only a dream, Éponine. You are safe here, I promise. " Angered brewed inside him that this poor young woman couldn't escape her bastard of a father even in her sleep. His jaw clenched in an effort to speak calmly. "I'll never let him hurt you like that again."

They sat for several moments, neither of them speaking. When her tears had stopped, she pulled back and pushed the loose curls out of his stunning blue eyes. "You're too kind to me."

"Hardly," he scoffed, smiling crookedly, "but I figure you deserve a little kindness."

"I don't know how to repay you for everything that you've done for me. I definitely can't afford a doctor."

"I don't expect anything in return. You've actually done a lot to help me too. You're helping unite the people for the revolution. You're probably saving my life." He realized just how true his words were. Her efforts may be the thing that saves not only him, but many of his friends as well.

She couldn't help but smile in response. They sat quietly for a few moments before Enjolras yawned and stood up. She just now noticed he had shed his trousers and now stood in front of her wearing only his undergarments. "We should go back to sleep."

"Lay with me," Éponine whimpered as he reached the door. "Please. I'm scared to sleep alone."

He hesitated, his hand gripping the doorframe. His face contorted slightly and he appeared to be struggling with her request. He wanted nothing more than to climb into that bed next to her, wrap his arms around her and protect her dreams from the monsters that plagued them. It wouldn't be right though. She was just scared to be alone; it wasn't him she wanted. At least not the way he wanted her. "I don't know if that's appropriate Éponine. You're safe, I'm just outside."

"Please." She was closed to tears again.

He sighed dramatically, but gave into her request and came to lay beside her. Apparently her tears were his weakness. He looked over to see the she was grinning triumphantly at him. He rolled his eyes. "Go to sleep."

It was late morning by the time Éponine woke up. She could see through the slight space between the curtains that the sun was already high in the sky, and a stream of light illuminated the room. Enjolras' arm was flung across her waist and she turned over slowly, careful not to wake him. Their faces were mere inches apart and Éponine had to swallow hard to calm her racing heart. He was still fast asleep, his breathing deep, and rhythmic. His was more relaxed than she'd ever seen it before; it made him look younger, less guarded. She inched her body closer him and felt his arm tense around her, pulling her towards him. She wanted to freeze this moment because she knew as soon as he woke up he would pull away from her to keep a respectful distance. Éponine didn't want him to keep his distance; she wanted to be touching him at all times because she'd never felt more alive than she did when his flesh contacted hers. She felt different with him, his presence created a delighted panic in her heart that was indescribable. She'd never felt this way, not even about Marius.

His eyes squeezed tighter closed causing his face to crinkle up as he stretched his back, waking gently from his sleep. A giggle escaped Éponine's lips, he looked unbelievably cute with his nose all crinkled up like that. His eyes popped open and a smile graced his lips when he saw her face so close to his.

"Good morning," he murmured, "Are you laughing at me?"

"Of course not," she replied with mock seriousness. "But good morning to you too."

"Did you sleep well?"

"Very. Thank you for staying with me."

"It was a hardship," he joked.

Éponine snorted a laugh and playfully hit his chest. "I hope I haven't given you the wrong impression, monsieur. I may have invited you into the bed, but I'm no tramp."

Enjolras joined in her laughter, but replied solemnly, "I would never think that of you."

His words seemed to make him keenly aware of their position, lying inches apart on his bed, smiling in each other's faces. _I think I might love you_, he thought.

**A/N: Well that's a major confession, even if it's only in his thoughts. Please review!**


	9. No Turning Back

**A/N: Are you going to make me beg for reviews?! C'mon guys I know you're reading it, I'm dying for an opinion, some constructive criticism, a predication, a question, ANYTHING!**

Éponine stared at her haggard face in the mirror. Dried blood clung to her skin and matted in her hair. She suddenly felt guilty for soiling Enjolras' sheets with her filth. He had drawn her a bath when they finally climbed out of bed and left her to herself to clean up. It was a shame she was about to have her first real bath in years, yet she'd still have to pull back on the same old tattered dress afterwards.

She stripped herself of said dress and climbed into the bathtub. The hot water covered her up to her shoulders and she could feel years of built up tension release itself from her muscles. She wet her hair and soaked for a few minutes, letting the dirt relinquish its grip on her skin.

A sudden knock on the door made her jump slightly. "I'm just stepping out for a moment, Éponine. I shouldn't be gone long. Do you need anything?" Enjolras asked through the door.

"No, I'm great, thank you," she replied. She listened to his footsteps fade followed by the click of the front door closing behind him. Then she was left alone with her thoughts. There was no denying the effect Enjolras' presence had on her. Her pulse raced and her skin tingled at the slightest touch. But the connection was deeper; he was genuinely a good person. No one had treated her with as much respect and dignity, no one valued her thoughts so greatly, no one seemed to truly want her around the way that he did. Her made her feel important. He made her feel wanted. He made her feel _loved_. Éponine scoffed at the idea. He couldn't love me, she thought, he's too invested in this revolution –in Patria. He sees her as nothing more than a damsel in distress; a street rat he can rescue. Sure, he cares about her, but as a friend, perhaps even a sister. Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that they were meant to be more. Never had she ever felt so strongly; she had thought she was in love with Marius, but now it donned on her just how wrong she was. Being around Marius felt nothing like this; she had always felt like she needed to prove herself because she wasn't good enough for him. It was never like that with Enjolras. She felt worthy. "Dear God, I love him," she whispered to herself in astonishment.

She washed herself in a daze, scrubbing her skin raw and raking her fingers harshly through the knots in her hair to detangle it. By the time she was climbing out of the tub, she heard Enjolras return. As she was drying herself, he knocked lightly on the door.

"I have something for you," he informed her. Éponine covered herself and opened the door a tiny crack. He held up a simple, but lovely burgundy dress. "I figured you should have something clean to put on. Here." He handed her the dress and she gaped at him.

"You –you bought me a dress?" she stuttered.

"Think nothing of it. I just hope it fits; I guessed your size." He turned and walked off down the hall leaving Éponine alone again. She closed the door and held up the dress again to get a good look at it. It was nothing fancy, but it was easily the prettiest thing she'd ever owned. She re-bandaged her ribs quickly and eagerly slipped the dress on and admired her reflection in the mirror. Clean and freshly dressed, she started to feel pretty too despite the unsightly stitches on her forehead. She dried her hair as much as she could before leaving the bathroom, shaking out her damp brown curls behind her. Enjolras was sitting on the couch and he inhaled sharply when his eyes spotted her.

"You look…" he searched for words, "incredibly beautiful."

Éponine blushed slightly beneath his gaze. "Thank you. For both the compliment, and the dress."

"You are very welcome, I'm glad you like it."

"How could I not? I've never owned anything so nice. It's a shame it won't stay this way for long."

"What do you mean?"

"It won't stay pretty and clean for long when I return to the streets."

Enjolras went quiet and he appeared to be debating something in his mind. Éponine crossed the room and sat lightly on the opposite end of the couch from him waiting for him to sort out his thoughts. "What if you didn't return to the streets?" he finally whispered, looking down at his hands.

"What do you mean?" it was her turn to ask.

"I know we agreed on you staying her only a few days while you convalesce, but you don't have to leave."

"You want me to live here? With you?" Her heart raced in her chest.

"Well the revolution is fast upon us and it really would be helpful to have you near –to have you available. You have been very helpful and your ideas are worth including in the discussions we have," he said quickly.

"Oh," Éponine's face fell.

"Plus," Enjolras ventured, noticing the change in her expression and thinking maybe her feelings matched his after all, "I truly enjoy your company and I can't bear the thought of your father laying a hand on you ever again." He cautiously reached out to her and rested his hand on top of hers where it sat on the couch cushion between them.

Her heart soared. "I'd love to," she murmured, "but I'd feel like a freeloader. I have nothing to contribute and you've already been too generous." She gestured to her new dress as she spoke.

"You'd provide your company. As I'm sure you've heard, I'm notoriously independent, but I am capable of feeling loneliness," he confided, "and there's something about you Éponine. I feel close to you. I hope that's not inappropriate to say."

"Not at all." She turned her hand over to give his a reassuring squeeze. "I certainly feel close to you too." She wanted to say more. Now that she was certain of her immense feelings for him she desperately wanted him to know, but at the same time she was terrified of the uncertainty in this situation.

Enjolras swallowed hard, wanting to take the conversation further, but not knowing how to do so without totally revealing himself. With his free hand, he pushed his hair out of his face, trying to physically push away the nervousness he felt. He exhaled heavily and looked into Éponine's big brown eyes. She was beautiful. "I care about you a lot. More than you could possibly know."

Éponine moved closer to him on the couch so that the sides of their legs were touching and they were still holding hands. Her mind was struggling to form coherent thoughts with him so close. She reached out her hand, placing it on his cheek to make him face her. He anxiously licked his lips, unsure of what she was about to do. "Actually, I think I know exactly how much."

Her lips were mere inches from his and Enjolras couldn't resist a second longer. There was no turning back. He closed the distance between them and gently pressed his lips to hers.

**A/N: Oooooooooh their first kiss! Let me know what you think!**


	10. Extraordinary

**A/N: M-rated content in this chapter, be advised. Thank you for all your reviews, I'm glad you're as excited as I am about where this story is headed. Read on and keep the reviews coming!**

April came quickly. Éponine stayed and Enjolras' apartment became the both of theirs. They fell into a comfortable routine before long; each night sharing the bed, a tangle of limbs beneath the sheets; each day catching sidelong glances and giving sly smiles from across the room while working diligently. There relationship hadn't progressed in any obvious physical ways. The kiss they'd shared was still the only one they'd shared, but an unspoken promise was made the second their lips met. Neither had made a confession of love, but they were happy, comfortable. The tension was building though. Electricity flowed between them with maddening power when they lied wrapped in each other's arms at night. At some point one of them would give in, it was only a matter of time.

It was completely dark outside, but Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Éponine were still at the café Musain; although Courfeyrac had been asleep with his head on the table for the past hour or so. Éponine was too worn out to be much help to Enjolras anymore, so she preoccupied herself by seeing how much she could mess with Courfeyrac before he woke up. She had just finished balancing a book on the mouth of an empty wine bottle on the side of his face when he turned in his sleep causing everything to come crashing to the floor. Courfeyrac's head jolted up and Éponine was reduced to a giggling mess.

"Geez 'Ponine you nearly gave me heart attack," he muttered tiredly.

"Sorry," she giggled, "You're just such a sound sleeper."

"I'm glad you've had your fun, but apparently I'm not safe sleeping here," he joked, "I'm going to head out."

The three said their goodnights and he headed out the door. Éponine spun around to see Enjolras staring at her with a look in his eyes that could only be described as desire. Apparently a couple weeks of trying to ignore that obvious spark between them had been enough for him. He closed the distance between them in a few sure strides and pulled her into him, their lips crashing together. Éponine's back was pressed to the wall and Enjolras lifted her so she could wrap her legs around his waist. Her fingers tangled themselves in his thick, golden hair and she pulled him in, pressing as much of their bodies together as physically possible.

The sound of the door opening made them break apart. Enjolras set her down and they immediately flew to opposite sides of the room. Courfeyrac reached the top of the stairs to find the pair looking flushed and disheveled. Enjolras was pulling on his jacket as if preparing to leave, Éponine sat across the room looking thoughtfully at a book.

"I forgot my jacket," Courfeyrac stated pulling said article off the back of a chair and eyeing them suspiciously. "What's going on with the pair of you? You seem awfully close lately. And Combeferre said you were staying at Enjolras', is that true Éponine?"

"You all are reading too much into things," Enjolras stated with a chuckle as if the idea of him and Éponine were laughable.

Courfeyrac looked as if he wanted to argue, but he was overcome with a terrific yawn and decided against it. "If you say so," he muttered leaving the pair alone again.

"Are you ashamed to be with me?" Éponine blurted out.

"What? Of course not. I just think it's easier for them not to know anything for now, just while we are still figuring it out ourselves."

"I suppose you're right."

"C'mon," he murmured holding his hand out to her, "let's go home."

Éponine smiled at his use of the word home and took his hand in her own, interlacing her fingers with his. "So what was that back there?" She asked as they strolled through the moonlit streets of Paris.

"By 'that' I assume you're referring to the kiss?" she could hear the hint of a smile in his voice.

"I think it was a bit more than just a kiss."

"Well I think you are a lot more then just a friend."

Éponine pulled him to a stop. "Enjolras, I love you," she said carefully, gazing into his endless blue eyes, "I've known for weeks and I've been too afraid to say anything because I was worried that you didn't feel that same way and that it would ruin our friendship and our entire relationship really, but I can't take it anymore. I need you to know that I've never felt this way before. I didn't know that feelings this powerful existed; that it was possible to have such intense chemistry. But it's beyond that; it's everything you are and everything that you make me feel capable of. I thought I was tough; I thought I didn't need anyone, but each day it's becoming more and more painfully apparent to me that if I lost you, I would lose myself too because I never want to live in a world where you don't exist."

Enjolras took her blushing face in his hands. Her words freed him and he looked at her with undying love in his eyes. "Éponine you have set my soul on fire. I never thought I would ever find a woman I loved as much as my beliefs. I considered myself married to this country, but you have made this blind man see the light. You are beyond perfect for me; you're everything I never knew I needed until now. It's taken every ounce of strength I have not to grab you and kiss you and touch you the way I've been dreaming about for months. I love you, Éponine. Of course you would be the one brave enough to say it first." He smiled widely at her. "You are incredible and it pains me that you don't see yourself as such because I think the absolute world of you."

He leaned forward and planted his lips firmly on hers, cementing his words with action. Éponine rose to her tiptoes, prolonging the kiss as Enjolras straightened. All of the passion they'd been suppressing was coming to life. His hands moved to her hips, pulling them against him, her hands went up to cup his face. After several moments, Enjolras pulled back. "I think we should continue this at home," he whispered slightly out of breath, his voice husky and filled with lust. Éponine just nodded and began pulling him down the street, eager to have him all to herself.

Enjolras struggled to put the key in the lock with Éponine clinging to him, placing kisses up and down his throat. He finally succeeded in turning the key and threw the door open, ushering her inside, and slamming it hastily behind them. He swept her up into his arms and carried her down the hallway to the bedroom. He set her gently on the bed and they stared at each other for a moment, panting and buzzing with nervous energy. It was Éponine who moved first. She stood and with sure hands began removing her dress. The fabric fell to the floor at her feet.

Enjolras took her in, wide eyes tracing her figure from her petite feet, up her slender legs and curved hips, to her tiny waist, small breasts, and delicate collarbones. Her body was so dainty and perfect. Her skin was marked with scars and bruises, but somehow they only added to her allure. He met her expectant gaze and slid off his jacket. He unbuttoned his shirt, watching Éponine as she watched him, and tossed it aside. He then undid his trousers and let them fall to the ground, stepping out of them before finally sliding off his underwear. He really did look statuesque, like he'd been sculpted out of marble. His long limbs were toned; not lanky like a boy's, but strong like a man's –there was nothing childlike about his appearance. His skin was smooth and unmarked. He managed to seem graceful even in stillness.

They both moved towards each other, meeting in the middle and falling back onto the bed. Their lips came together feverishly, their hands exploring each other for the first time. Enjolras kissed roughly across Éponine's collarbones and down to her chest, teasing her with his tongue and light nips to her skin. Small sighs and moans escaped her mouth and she pulled Enjolras' face back up to her own. She was lying on her back, knees bent with her feet on the bed. Enjolras' body was on top of her, between her legs.

"Are you sure you want to do this Éponine?" he asked, pulling away from the kiss to look earnestly in her eyes. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"I want this more than anything," she murmured, amazed that even in the heat of the moment he was still so controlled and concerned for her. "I swear."

His lips pulled up slightly at the corners and he eagerly pressed them against hers. He aligned his hips with hers and their bodies melted into one. Rhythmically moving together, Enjolras let out a guttural moan that made chills go up Éponine's spine. Her hands were moving across his muscled back –he was perfect. Her lips moved down his neck and across his shoulder, causing him to make more sounds of pleasure that drove her wild. He picked up his pace and Éponine gasped blissfully.

"Enjolras," she whimpered, her back arching off the bed and wrapping her legs around his back. His hands were grasping at her waist and she reached up to knot her fingers in his hair, their foreheads pressed together. Each thrust had them both moaning as their passion reached its peak. Their hips met one last time and Éponine's body tensed, her eyes closed tightly and her chest heaving. Enjolras grunted, his whole body trembling. He rolled off of her and she put her head on his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat.

"I'm not sure what I expected, but that exceeded any preconceived notion I ever could have had," Éponine whispered.

Enjolras chuckled, looking down at her. "I didn't think I could feel more for you than I already did, but it seems physical love is a powerful thing."

"You're sort of extraordinary," Éponine sighed, "How can you be such an expert at something you've never done before."

"I don't think it has anything to do with me," he said simply, "That experience would not have been nearly the same had I been with somebody else. It's us together that made it extraordinary."

Éponine climbed on top of him and placed a hand on either side of his face, planting a firm kiss square on his lips. "I love you, Enjolras."

"I love you, Éponine."

**A/N: This is the longest chapter yet and it was challenging to perfect, but I really enjoyed writing it because I'm hardcore in my shipping of these two. I hope you enjoyed reading it. Please review!**


	11. Getting Out Alive

**A/N: I'm glad you guys loved the last chapter! Thank you for your support and please continue to REVIEW, I love hearing what you think.**

Éponine awoke from a blissful slumber to Enjolras kissing up and down her spine. Her eyelids fluttered open and she looked over her should at him to see him smiling to himself between kisses. He noticed her open eyes and pecked her playfully on the nose. "Good morning, love," he murmured.

"Who are you?" Éponine joked, "Has the marble leader's exterior cracked to reveal a love struck poet?"

"I wouldn't say that," he smirked, "But as a man who has long been prepared to die for his country, you have certainly given me something to live for."

"Is that so?" She smiled.

"Yes. It makes leading this rebellion all the more difficult. It was one thing to consider dying in the name of liberty before. But now I have love in my life and I long for a future with you. You've given me more fervor to prevail, but also a deeper fear of failure and what that will mean for us –for you."

"Don't worry about it now, there is still time. Support is growing day by day. And when that fateful day arrives and the barricades are erected, I will be standing there by your side prepared to triumph over our foes."

"I'm sorry?" Enjolras sputtered.

"What?" Her brows came together in confusion.

"Are you really expecting to _be_ at the barricade?"

"Of course! You can't possibly expect me to sit at home and wait to hear if you've been killed or not!" Her voice was raised with the indignation and conviction she felt. She _had_ to be at the barricade. Awaiting news of Enjolras' condition would be more torturous than any harm that could possibly come to her during battle.

"That's exactly what I expect. You're not going to put yourself in harms way. You will not be fighting on that barricade. If something were to happen to you I would never forgive myself," his tone was commanding, yet deep with worry. It sounded like an order, but Éponine was not his soldier, nor his subservient. He was staring straight into her eyes. They were both sitting up in the bed now still completely naked from the night before, but neither of them seemed to pay any attention to that.

"Fine. I won't be active in the battle, but I _will _be there. I can help Joly with the wounded."

"Éponine…" he sighed deeply.

"Think of what you're asking of me Enjolras," Éponine grabbed his face somewhat roughly in her hands, forcing him to look at her as she tried to get through to him. "How would you feel if I asked you to sit aside while I faced the possibility of death?"

"That is different."

"No, it's not!" She nearly yelled. "I've been beaten, but not broken. I'm not useless and I will not be a liability. I'm tough enough to deal with this. " Her voice softened and her eyes welled with tears as she continued. "If anything happened to you and I wasn't there… if you died and I wasn't there… I would hate myself. I would be miserable for the rest of my life, which would probably be very short because if you die, I will go to the national guardsmen and declare myself a supporter of the rebellion and I'll be executed too."

Enjolras grunted with dissatisfaction, but he understood where she was coming from. He would hate not knowing what fate might come to her if she was facing battle and he wasn't there. "Fine," he whispered. "But you're staying in the café and helping Joly with the injured. Do not climb the barricade and do not put yourself in harms way. We will both make it out of this."

"Deal," she whispered in response, a small smile pulling up the corners of her lips. She leaned towards him and pressed her lips tenderly against his. He responded immediately, his hard stone face coming to life beneath her fingertips. She threw her body into him causing him to fall back on the bed. She straddled him. "You're pretty sexy when you're angry," she whispered in his ear, attempting to sound seductive.

He chuckled. "You're pretty hot when you're being a pain in the ass."

Éponine feigned insult, but Enjolras just pulled her in for another kiss, which led to another, and another. Soon they were gasping and grabbing excitedly at each other. Their bodies came together like two corresponding puzzle pieces.

Many moments later, Éponine gave a final moan and went slack against Enjolras' chest, both of them breathing heavily. When their heartrates finally slowed to a normal pace, she propped herself up on one elbow, lightly tracing the contours of his chest with her other hand. He had one arm around her waist and the other behind his head. "I can't imagine I will ever get tired of this," she murmured, watching hers fingers glide across his smooth skin.

"Good," he replied with a wide smile, "because I know I never will."

They laid in silence for some time, just enjoying each other's presence. Enjolras was the first to speak. "Would you really have them kill you?"

"Hmm?" She questioned, not sure where his thoughts were at.

"If I died at the barricade, would you really hand yourself over to the National Guard to be killed?"

"Of course," she responded honestly. She tried to look in his eyes, but his head was turned away.

"Why?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"If you were gone there would be nothing left for me here. I would much rather be with you even in death."

When Enjolras didn't respond she sat up and forced him to face her. His eyes were full of tears she realized with great surprise. I appeared as if he were exerting great effort to keep them from spilling over onto his face.

"You're crying." It was a statement, not a question. A look of concern washed over her face, creating a worried line between her eyebrows.

"I'm overwhelmed," he breathed. "This. You. I never could have anticipated any of this happening and yet loving you is easily the greatest thing in my life. And my hatred for your death is lessened by the selfish desire to be with you even in death and I'm a horrible man for saying so. But you should not die for me Éponine, regardless of my greed."

"Do not worry about it now," she spoke softly, petting his hair soothingly. "After all, we're both getting out of this alive, right?"

**A/N: REVIEW PRETTY PLEASE!**


	12. Fearless Leader

**A/N: Thank you so much for all the reviews/ favourites/ follows! I'm glad you guys are enjoying this story so far!**

Enjolras stood on the makeshift stage gesturing wildly as he spoke. His words were full of conviction and confidence; people were hanging on every word. Éponine was standing amongst the crowd trying to take in the spectacle how she otherwise might have if she'd hadn't been "in" with the amis. It was difficult to imagine how different everything would be if she hadn't met Marius and become involved in the efforts of this band of young men. It had only been a few months really, but it had been the best few months she had ever had. Maybe not the time spent mooning over a blind Marius Pontmercy, but it was undeniable that Enjolras had raised her out of darkness. He was idealistic and hopeful and it was contagious. He could make even the darkest pessimist see the light and relinquish his gloom. She wondered what would be going through her mind at a moment like this if she hadn't gotten to know Enjolras. Would she be standing here struck by both his beauty and wisdom? Or would she be only half listening to his impassioned speech as she searched the crowd for Marius?

It embarrassed her to think that she would most likely be doing the latter. It mystified her as to why she hadn't paid Enjolras the attention he deserved until just a couple months ago. She cursed herself for being so caught up in someone undeserving that she was blind to the most beautiful man she'd ever laid eyes on. Sure, she had errantly admired the fearless blond leader; it was impossible not to pay him at least some attention, but though his fervor was fiery, he seemed otherwise cold. The other men would joke about how he would never give a woman the time of day and that he was made of stone or that Patria was the only one for him. Maybe Éponine had never focused on him because he seemed completely untouchable. Standing where he was now, giving a zealous lecture, his power and overwhelming intellect were obvious. His emotional distance only added to his aloofness and mysteriousness. It was a combination of all these factors that diverted her attention initially, but once her eyes were opened and the spark in her heart had exploded into an all-consuming fire because of this man, she knew she would never leave his side.

She watched him command the stage, his eyes ablaze with the extent of his ardor and she smiled. He was so determined to right a wrong that truly didn't affect him personally. In reality, a man of his wealth was probably better off with the monarchy, but he didn't seem to have a selfish bone in his body. He wanted a better life for people he didn't even know.

She glanced up to see his eyes on her; he'd paused as the uproar of the crowd began to drown him out. She gave him a bright, encouraging smile and he took off again as the cheering quieted. He wrapped it up and the gathering of people shouted their agreements and throwing their fists in the air. Enjolras stood there for a moment taking it in, before descending from the stage and disappearing from Éponine's view.

"Quite something, ain't 'e?" a young urchin girl giggled, nudging Éponine playfully with her elbow. "A looker and 'e talks like a godsend."

"He is pretty magnificent," Éponine said with an easy laugh. Enjolras reached her in the mass of people and placed his hand lightly on the small of her back, a triumphant smile gracing his splendid lips. He pecked her cheek lovingly and the urchin girl's eyes nearly bugged out of her skull. She blushed a deep scarlet and pushed her way through the crowd in the opposite direction.

"You have a troubling effect on women," Éponine said with mock seriousness.

"Is that so?" Enjolras inquired, his eyebrows raising, not understanding.

"Yes. That girl that was here seemed to have a bit of a crush on you."

Enjolras shrugged indifferently.

"It's a good thing you seem to uninterested in all the female attention you get because I fear I'm the jealous type."

He smirked and pulled her closer to whisper in her ear. "As am I, my dear." He gestured to a little boy who couldn't have been more than 7 years old; he was openly gaping at Éponine. She laughed and shoved Enjolras playfully. The crowd had begun to disperse and they could see several of the amis looking around for their leader. Enjolras and Éponine simultaneously took a step apart. They had agreed not to tell them right away about their newfound relationship, it would only be a distraction. They figured they would find out eventually, but sharing their love with other people wasn't an urgent matter to either of them.

"That was excellent, Enjolras!" Combeferre exclaimed as he and several of the other men reached the pair. "There must have been at least a thousand people here!"

The group talked excitedly about the incredible momentum their movement has gained over the last several months. Éponine listened quietly, she was grateful to hear how confident the amis were in the rebellion. It lessened her nerves somewhat that they were growing more and more certain that they would have the support they needed to succeed. Despite her bravado in front of Enjolras, she was silently terrified, but she couldn't share how deep her worries were with him. He would just think that she didn't have faith in his cause or in him as a leader. She felt it was much better to build his conviction and help him prepare than to for him to know that she was desperately worried to lose him. The extent of her concern would only make him feel guilty, but he would never give up now no matter what anyone thought. He was not a defeatist; he was fearless. He would see this through till the bitter end. If his men died and his revolution failed, Éponine was devastatingly aware that he, as their leader, would boldly go down with them in a hail of gunfire. She prayed that at least having her in his life would make him think twice about dying for his noble cause.

**A/N: REVIEW!**


	13. Beyond Her Years

**A/N: Thank you so much for supporting this story, it means so much because I really enjoy writing it. This is kind of another fluff chapter, but I promise I'll try to give you some sort of action in the next one!**

Éponine struggled through a particularly challenging sentence. "Sound out the words," Enjolras prompted encouragingly. At her insistence, he was teaching her how to read and write. She had a very basic knowledge of how, but she lacked the practice and the understanding of grammar and spelling. He wanted to start her off with a much simpler book, but Éponine was determined to get through one of his old law textbooks, the language and vocabulary of which was difficult for anyone outside of the law profession to comprehend even if they were well read. Thus far, her determination and impressively fast learning ability were serving her well. Enjolras stunned by how quickly she had begun to pick things up. He had started teaching her less than a week ago and it was now early May and she had already gone from barely knowing how to write individual words, to forming simple sentences. Obviously it helped that she was already so well spoken when it came to expressing her thoughts aloud, but her rapidly expanding knowledge was astounding nonetheless.

She managed to get through the sentence and slammed the heavy book shut with an exaggerated sigh before Enjolras could instruct her to continue. "I'm calling it a day," she stated at his confused expression.

"Fair enough," Enjolras replied with a small smile, "You're soon going to have a better grasp on written language than I do at this rate."

Éponine scoffed and rolled her eyes playfully. "I'll be lucky to gain half your ability. You really have a way with words monsieur."

Enjolras brushed the compliment off and reached across the table to grasp her hand tenderly. "Well if the lesson is done for today, I suppose I should go into the café for a while."

"If you must," she said with mock annoyance, "I'll come with you." She gave his hand a quick squeeze and pushed her chair back, stood up and stretched her back, which was stiff for leaning over the large book. She felt Enjolras' large hands encircle her small waist, pulling her into him. His lips came down on hers with a strange sense of urgency. She could tell he'd been especially stressed lately, but he didn't seem to want to talk about it.

After a few minutes he pulled back. "I love you," he breathed and pressed a kiss on her forehead. The emotion in his eyes was unfathomable.

"I love you too," Éponine whispered, wrapping her arms around him. She rested her head against his chest and could feel his lips on her hair, his breath ruffling her hair lightly. "Is everything alright?"

"Of course," he said a little too quickly. Éponine pulled back to look at him. A neutral expression was pasted on his face, but his eyes seemed far away and there was a heaviness about him.

"Enjolras…" she sighed. He wasn't telling her the whole truth.

"I'm fine, truly." The corners of his mouth pulled up halfheartedly. "It's just that we received news yesterday that General Lamarque has fallen ill."

"Oh," she wasn't sure exactly what this meant for him, but could determine from his mood that it was weighing on his mind. Of course she had heard of General Lamarque and of his sympathies to the working class as well as his criticism of the monarchy.

Noticing her uncertain expression, he continued. "I believe his death may be the catalyst for our rebellion."

The reality of his words hit Éponine with swift brutality. She swallowed hard before speaking. "Are you scared?"

Enjolras stiffened. "I am fearful they we aren't yet prepared. I'm fearful for the lives of my men. I wouldn't have a doubt if you hadn't given me a reason to live. I worry love has made me weak," he smiled crookedly to assure her the last part was a joke, but she could tell his concerns were very real. He became serious again with a heavy sigh, "A leader should inject his people with confidence and keep his qualms to himself, so please do not let my worries reach the amis." He was staring over Éponine's head to avoid her concerned eyes.

She grasped his hand reassuringly in hers and put her free hand on his cheek to make him look at her; she found his brave façade admirable and knew it wasn't easy for him to let someone in on his concerns. "We will be ready and we will succeed. You know I didn't believe in your fight to begin with, but you made a believer out of me in a single conversation that night I ran after you to tell you to call of the entire revolution," they both smiled slightly at the memory of their first real interaction. "You have that effect of everyone who hears you speak with such conviction. Our side has grown by hundreds of willing citizens who are prepared to fight for their countries freedom because of _you_. Do not let our love make you fearful; we will be together in the end one way or another. There are so many people who believe in you and believe in this cause. Do not fail them, but withdrawing into yourself in fear."

Enjolras pressed his lips against hers tenderly. He could not even imagine how different the news of Lamarque's illness would be sitting with him if it weren't for the young woman who clung to him now. How dissimilar his entire world would be had she not followed him out of the café that night to essentially beg him for Marius' life. After watching her moon over the oblivious Pontmercy for so many months, it was incredible to learn that the waiflike street girl was much more intelligent than her desperate actions seemed. It was in that first full conversation that he discovered not only was she passionate and unafraid, but unbelievably strong. And right now she was proving once again that her incredible wisdom and bravery was well beyond her years. She had mastered a level of empathy that Enjolras had never experienced before. He was a man who had always seemed void of emotional attachments to people, mainly the women who watched him with lust filled eyes as he walked down the street. It was the bold and rough-around-the-edges Éponine who caused his marble heart to beat with an unbelievable love.

He almost wanted to laugh at himself now for being so apprehensive of making any sort of move towards her, but he has been so unaware of her mutual emotions. Enjolras had no real experience with women; he never felt he had time for them. It wasn't that he lacked all natural human desire; it was more that he never felt evenly matched by someone of the opposite sex. All the women his family had attempted to set him up with over the years failed to catch his eye, they were too well-behaved and spoiled, with their bonnet covered heads in the clouds. He longed for a woman to challenge him and to have opinions of her own and a sense of the harsh reality of the world. However, he assumed he would never find such a girl, so he simply stopped looking. It was the surprise of all surprises when his heart began to soar at Éponine's mere presence. She was exquisite and one of a kind.

**A/N: Please review!**


	14. Deserving of Love

**A/N: Sorry this chapter took a little longer than usual, I've been really sick and now exams are starting, but I will have plenty of free time to work on this story soon. I've reached 50 followers! Thank you so much.**

Enjolras and Éponine were the first to arrive at the café bright and early on a cloudy Tuesday morning. The weather seemed ominous as if a storm was coming, Éponine found it unsettling. Enjolras quickly sat down and went to work, leaving her leaning against the window frame, looking out towards the quickly darkening sky. After a few minutes she strutted over to where Enjolras was seated and plopped herself down in his lap, planting a passionate kiss on his unsuspecting lips. His arms snaked around her and she knotted her fingers in his hair.

The sound of someone awkwardly clearing their throat caused them to break apart. Éponine leaped out of his lap, blushing furiously. Enjolras exhaled heavily and ran his fingers through his tousled locks, looking up at the person who walked in on them. Three young men stood wide-eyed at the top of the stairs: Courfeyrac, Combeferre, and Marius. Courfeyrac had a sly smirk pasted on his face, Combeferre looked slightly taken aback, but Marius stood there with his jaw hanging humorously towards the floor.

"What's going on here?" Marius demanded when he finally picked up his jaw.

"What did it look like?" Courfeyrac chuckled.

"Since when are you two together?" Marius asked, ignoring him.

"Since-" Éponine began, but Enjolras quickly cut her off.

"We're not together. What you saw was nothing and you will not speak of it again." His tone rang with finality. Courfeyrac looked like he wanted to make a joke, but resisted and walked over to a table piled with maps and books, followed by Combeferre. Marius floundered for another minute before also dragging himself over to the same table.

Éponine's fists curled into tight balls and her breathing quickened. "Excuse me?" She growled between tight lips. All the men spun around to look at her curiously.

"Éponine," Enjolras sighed, but she didn't let him continue.

Rage boiled inside her and her faced was burning with shame and embarrassment at his rejection. "You bastard! We've been together for months! Practically since I moved in with him!" she spat ferociously, "We are not just lovers, we are _in_ love, or at least I thought we were. But you're ashamed of me aren't you? Just a dirty street girl, you can't stand the thought of your peers knowing you've shared a bed with me. Of course, the grand, fearless leader of the revolution is too good for any woman. I know you care about me, but the fact that you can't admit it to even your closest of friends is cowardly and greatly dishonorable to me."

Silence followed her exasperated speech. The four men all stared at her, taking in what she had just said. Éponine spun around and threw herself down the stairs, taking them two at a time and wondered out on to the stone streets. It sounded like Enjolras was calling out to her, but she left anyways. Until he was ready to acknowledge their feelings in public, he would never fully be hers. She had given herself to him so entirely and would shout her love from the rooftops if she could. It stung that he did not feel the same amount of joy and elation at their blossoming romance. Thunder grumbled high above her and she began to feel the cool drops of rain on the exposed skin of her face and arms, but she didn't care. She hurried away from the Musain as fast as her bare feet would carry her, not looking back though she was sure Enjolras had followed behind her.

He had called out her name as she slammed the café door and leapt out of his chair to go after her without acknowledging the other men witnessing the spectacle. Remorse took over and he was desperate to find her. He hadn't intended to make her feel as though he was embarrassed by her, he thought they had agreed not to share their relationship. It didn't occur to him that she would take his public denial of their love so personally. He cursed himself for being so thoughtless and insensitive. How could he have not realized that his rejection would wound her more than Marius' obliviousness ever could?

Rain soaked his hair and caused his clothes to cling to his body. In his haste, he had left his jacket and was wondering the streets in only his shirt and suspenders. The white fabric grew see-through with the water, but he didn't take notice. Those who were still out on the streets eyed him wearily. Surely he looked a little crazed. Initially when he left the café he saw her figure disappearing in the distance, but after an hour of searching he was unable to find her anywhere so he reluctantly returned to the Musain.

The men looked up at his entrance. He was soaked through with rain and looking defeated. "You love her," Combeferre stated, not asked, "I could have never imagined you chasing a woman out in the rain."

"I couldn't find her," Enjolras replied dejectedly, "she'll never forgive me."

Courfeyrac, oblivious to the somber feelings rolling off of Enjolras is nearly visible waves, shook his head to himself, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth, "no wonder you're so happy lately… finally bedding a girl."

"Do not speak of her that way!" Enjolras exploded at him, but his face crumpled immediately afterwards and he slouched to the ground, his head in his hands. "I shouldn't have denied it, I just didn't think it was important for everyone to know, I thought it would only be a distraction," he eyed Courfeyrac's still smug expression disdainfully before continuing, "But I do love her."

"She will come back when she has had a chance to cool off, you of all people must know that though she is a fiery and passionate girl, her self-doubt is boundless," Combeferre murmured, placing a comforting hand on his closest friends back. "She will forgive you."

"She always jumps to the conclusion that I think I'm too good for her, but it is she who is too good for me."

"There is no one more deserving of love than the two of you. "

The truth in his words rang clear. Enjolras and Éponine had both searched for someone for a seemingly endless period of time. Éponine wasted herself mooning over men who would never want her, while Enjolras snubbed any woman who looked at him for he could not afford the distraction of a woman. But they both craved the comfort of love's embrace and had found it at last with each other. Enjolras buried his head in the pillow as he slept alone in their bed that night, angered with himself for his Éponine had still not returned.

**A/N: Second time they've been walked in on, these two need to be more careful where they decide to make-out haha. Well I hope that was sufficiently angsty for you all. PLEASE REVIEW!**


	15. Woven Together

**A/N: Oh you guys make me so happy with your reviews! To answer a question I received, yes I am planning on including Gavroche and maaaaaaaybe a little Montparnasse in later chapters.**

"I can survive without him," Éponine muttered to herself as she stopped to lean against a building's brick face. The rain had finally cleared, but she was soaked through and began shivering violently as cool winds whipped past her. She imagined being wrapped up in Enjolras' warm embrace and thought about how her body would be swallowed up by his large, masculine form, returning warmth to her limbs and causing the beat of her heart to become more noticeable. She shook her head quickly to dispel the fantasy. She did not want to feel dependent on anyone; she could take care of herself.

But as the hours ticked on she became increasingly aware of the way she craved him. Like an addict, her mind seemed to grow fuzzy and her world grew darker in the absence of her drug. But the object of her infatuation wasn't something harmful to her, quite the opposite. She longed for the man who had lit up her life and provided her with more love and compassion than she'd ever experienced. If he was a drug, a toxin, she might be able to convince herself she was better off, but she couldn't lie to herself.

As night arrived, she curled up on her side and reacquainted herself with the cold ground she had spent so many nights away from, but sleep evaded her. After becoming accustomed to slumbering in a warm bed, just a tangle of bare limbs and the comforting knowledge that she was safe and loved, sleeping out on the streets again seemed nearly impossible. She had been spoiled and now that her privileges were gone again, her entire body seemed to react like that of a pouting child. She grumbled and squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that her dreams would bring her relief, but they only brought her back to Enjolras.

On the other side of the city, a frantic Enjolras could lie in bed no longer. He threw back the blankets and paced the length of _their_ bedroom, his fingers frantically combed his gold curls out of his eyes. The thought of Éponine back on the streets, wet from the rain and shivering all alone left him feeling riddled with an anguishing guilt. It was all his fault. All she wanted was acknowledgement of his love and instead of confessing to his most trusted friends the inner desires of his heart, he sent her running from a curt, cold and public rejection. Hindsight being 20/20, his mistake was so obvious and cruel and easily preventable that it infuriated him. He had searched the streets with the help of the amis, but to no avail. All he could do now was wait and hope for her to return.

The days seemed to drag on endlessly for both halves of the pair. Éponine tried to fall back into her old life before she started hanging around the café, while simultaneously avoiding her family more than she would have before. She'd heard her father's threats from the few friendly acquaintances she had that warned her he's on the warpath after her disappearance. The only one she wanted to speak to was Gavroche.

She asked around the streets for her long abandoned little brother. She was used to seeing him hanging around the Musain, following around the men eagerly and doing whatever was requested of him to help. He was just a kid, but he had been on his own for most of his life and somehow seemed to thrive from it. Courfeyrac had taken him under his wing and treated him as if he were his own little brother. Their interactions had often been a source of genuine happiness on Éponine's part. She was glad that someone was looking out for him. But the reason she was desperate to find him now was to inquire after Enjolras. She knew it was pathetic and it shamed her that she was so frantic to know how he was, but not seeing him was beginning to cause a physical ache.

"Gavroche!" she cried, at last spotting him gnawing on a chunk of stale bread.

"Where've ya been 'Ponine?" he hollered as she crossed the street towards him. "The guys've been seachin' for ya. I've never seen Enjolras so worked up over somethin' other'n the rebellion."

She wrapped her arms around the boy in a quick hug. "What do you mean?"

"They're all real worried 'bout ya. I told 'em yous tough and can handle yourself, but Enjolras has got me runnin' all around lately askin' people out 'ere were ya are."

She felt tears sting her eyes, but her stubborn nature took over. "Tell him I'm well and that if he's lucky I'll return soon enough and he better be ready to make it up to me when that time comes."

Gavroche snickered at her severe expression but promised to relay her message. Éponine hugged him again and turned to leave, but he called out to her again. "Watch out for mum 'n dad 'Ponine. Azelma told me they're 'bout ready to kill ya for runnin' out on 'em. Be careful and I know everyone thinks I'm just a dumb urchin kid, but I know two stubborn idiots in love when I see 'em. Go home 'Ponine."

She knew the home he was referring to was not the one she'd grown up in with her parents, but the one she'd come to know with Enjolras. "Thanks," she murmured. Gavroche spun on his heal and took off running in the direction of the café.

He burst in through the door and hurried up the stairs to a room full of young men talking and bustling about noisily. Several looked up upon his entrance including Courfeyrac who nudged Enjolras' arm and wordlessly jutted his chin in the direction of the boy. Enjolras crossed the room and leaned down to speak to Gavroche. "Have you found her?"

"She found me actually. I told 'er you're real worried 'bout 'er 'n she said she's good 'n that you better make it up to 'er if you're lucky enough 'n she comes back."

Enjolras huffed in mild amusement that Éponine still teased him and rubbed his tired eyes. He hadn't slept more than a couple hours the entire time she'd been gone. "Did she say she was coming back? Is she going to give me the chance to make it up to her?"

"She didn't say for sure, but she's lookin' just as messed up as you are. She still loves ya, but she's as stubborn as a mule." Gavroche chuckled to himself and earned a halfhearted grin from Enjolras.

The men who had crowded around to listen in began speaking again, offering encouraging words of Éponine's return. The atmosphere seemed to lighten slightly, but Enjolras was still clouded in remorse and distress. Éponine had woven herself into his life and he could no longer live without her.

**A/N: What do you think is going to happen? I hope it's not too difficult to read what Gavroche is saying, I just feel like it adds to his characterization. **


	16. I'm Yours

**A/N: I have big plans for this story so I hope you all continue to stick around because it might be a crazy ride. Thank you so much for reading so far.**

It was just over a week after running out of the café that Éponine finally showed up on Enjolras' doorstep looking filthier than ever. Her hair was once again matted, her dress torn and dirtied by the streets. Enjolras didn't care about her soiled appearance and didn't even wait for her to speak; he reached out and pulled her small frame into his chest with unbelievable tenderness. Her arms wrapped around him somewhat hesitantly in response.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked him, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

"Furious," he breathed, kissing her hair.

"Good because I'm still quite livid with you."

"As you should be. I never should have denied our relationship so fiercely. I was thoughtless and insensitive and didn't realize you would take it as a rejection on my part. I love you. All the amis know now. I'll tell anyone –everyone! Whatever will make it up to you."

Éponine pulled away slightly to look up at him, "you are too inexperienced in the excitements of a woman's heart. I should have known you didn't mean your words as intensely as you spoke them, but we were caught in the act Enjolras! The jig was up; I figured there was no use denying our relationship and when you did so with such harshness… it was more than a little disheartening."

"I'm a damn fool," Enjolras muttered kissing her face elatedly. He knew he should be angry with her that she just ran off for an entire week with barely a word, but the emotion that overwhelmed him currently was relief. He had begun to fear she would never return and that he had lost her forever.

"Yes you are," Éponine muttered, still angry, she wasn't about to let him off the hook that easily. He couldn't just kiss her and make it all better.

"Well I've realized my mistake, I would never do such a thing again."

"How could that have seemed like the right thing to say? You knew I was about to tell them the truth, but you just cut me off and basically said that I meant nothing to you."

"We had agreed not to tell anyone!" Enjolras could feel himself becoming defensive. "I thought that was what we both wanted. You didn't have to run off for a whole damn week! A little dramatic, don't you think?"

"I would never have left if you hadn't been so thoughtless in the first place!" They were full out yelling at each other now.

"And you wouldn't consider telling me off and then abandoning me without a word thoughtless? How could you do that to me? You know I love you and you know I'd be wrecked with worry at your absence. I know what I said was wrong, but what you did was also completely unfair."

"I can't believe you!" Éponine huffed, her face growing hot and red. "How can you turn this around on me?"

"You turned on me first, the second you deserted me in the café!"

"You denounced our entire relationship!"

"I apologized!"

"And now you're yelling at me for _your_ mistake!"

"I would have forgotten the whole issue had you not attacked me with blame when I am clearly remorseful!"

"You are such an ass!" she growled, inches from his face.

"You're the most difficult person I've ever met!" he spat back at her.

Suddenly, unconscious effort on both of their parts brought their lips crashing together. Éponine grabbed fistfuls of his hair as Enjolras slid his hand under her thighs to hoist her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. Her nimble fingers made quick work undoing the buttons of his shirt as he carried her. She pushed the fabric off his broad, muscled shoulders and he shook it from his arms one at a time so as not to let her go. He dropped her on the bed and climbed on top of her, pulling off the dirty dress she wore to reveal she was slightly thinner than before. After months of eating well, her figure had filled out; she wasn't voluptuous by any means, but she looked healthy. No one else would have noted a difference after a week away, but Enjolras had spent many hours studying her figure and the curves and freckles and scars that made it uniquely hers.

"What is it?" Éponine gasped, noticing his preoccupation.

"Never leave me again," was all Enjolras murmured in response.

"Never," she whispered, pulling his lips back to hers and reach to undo the button of his pants. He yanked them off eagerly and continued to kiss up and down her sides hungrily, making her squirm as his lips tickled her flesh.

The melded together, fingers re-familiarizing themselves with one another's bodies, backs arching, gasps and moans escaping both of their throats. It was a long time afterwards before either of them could speak. Éponine was the one to finally break the heated silence. "I still think you're a bastard," she muttered, "But I can't live without you and I never want to have to do that again."

"Well I think you're rather pig-headed and inflexible, but I would not want it any other way."

"Don't start with me again," she warned playfully, propping herself up in bed on one elbow to get a better look at him.

"Well if this is the result of getting you riled up, I cannot guarantee that I won't poke your buttons for the hell of it once in a while," he chuckled and goosed her rear.

"Who are you?" Éponine asked both astonished and amused by his unusual playfulness.

"I'm yours."

**A/N: I figured they're both thick-headed, stubborn, strong personality type people so they have to butt heads sometimes. It can't be all sunshine and lollipops with these two. I originally wrote this where they both just apologize and make up, but I figured that a super passionate rage kiss would be much more interesting **

**Review pretty please!**


	17. L'Heure du Destin

**A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you're continuing to enjoy this story because I love writing it!**

Éponine was welcomed back at the Musain with hugs and unabashed teasing. "Thank god, we though Enjolras was broken!" one said. "We couldn't take another day of his pouting!" another exclaimed. All comments were met by stern looks from their leader, but it was obvious he wasn't taking them too seriously. For the first time he was openly affectionate towards her, putting his arm around her waist and kissing her lightly on the cheek when he thought the boys weren't looking.

The days soon became work as usual as everyone returned to their normal rhythm. Éponine occasionally caught perplexed looks from a few of them men when they witnessed her intimate interactions with Enjolras. She laughed to herself about how strange it must seem to them to see their formerly stone faced celibate leader, blatantly in love with an urchin girl.

It was particularly late one night when a starry-eyed Marius finally arrived. "Is everything alright Marius?" Joly asked him.

"I met a girl. Her hair glowed like golden silk and her eyes were endless pools of blue," he paused rather theatrically, his eyes staring off distantly, "She was glorious!"

"Is our Marius in love?" Grantaire slurred, offering him a glass of wine.

"I am," he replied solemnly. His confession attracted the attention of several men in the room including Enjolras who was eyeing his young friend critically.

"Who is she?" He asked.

"Her name is Cosette. Isn't that the most beautiful name you've ever heard?"

"Quite a turn of events," Grantaire continued drunkenly, "Both our fearless leader and young Marius here all loved up, it's like something out of a work of fiction."

"Our consumed hearts will only fuel this revolution further," Enjolras said sharply. "Marius, this isn't a game, you can't let a girl you only just laid eyes on ruin everything we have worked for. Are you still with us?"

The men looked wearily at each other unsure of what to say to the unresponsive, daydreaming Marius. Éponine, however, was deep in thought. Could it be the same Cosette her parents had helped raise? She had been taken away by a strange man over eight years before and Éponine had not seen her ever since. She was always envious that Cosette was taken away from the nightmarish childhood they'd had together, and apparently off to a better life with a wealthy father of sorts.

Enjolras eyed Éponine with uncertainty as if he thought the knowledge of Marius' undying love for another woman would send her into a downward spiral. He went to reach out to her, but thought better of it. She appeared deep in thought and he didn't want her to be offended at his assumption that this news would upset her. She was over Marius entirely, of this Enjolras was certain.

The men drifted back to work, leaving Marius staring dreamily out the window. "Marius?" Enjolras snapped, finally waking the young man from his reverie. "Are you with us?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes! Of course." He joined the rest of them at the table they were working over only to be interrupted a few minutes later.

"Listen everybody!" Courfeyrac hollered, gathering the attention of all people in the room. He stood next to Gavroche, his hand rested on the boy's shoulder. He could feel all eyes in the room trained on his small body.

"General Lamarque is dead!" He announced in a steady voice. A full-bodied silence fell upon all the men in the room.

Everyone immediately looked to Enjolras for guidance, including Éponine. "L'heure du destin," he whispered to himself. She couldn't help but notice the sorrow that filled his eyes. "His death is the sign we await!" he rumbled, slamming his hand down on the table. "At the tomb of Lamarque is where our barricade must rise. It's time. Let us welcome this turn in events with great courage. The people will come to join us in our noble fight."

"They will come when we call!" the amis all shouted in unison. A new sense of urgency fell upon the room and people were frantically gathering ammunition, loading guns, and finalizing the plans they had been working on for so many months now. The air buzzed with nervous adrenaline. It was finally here.

Realization donned hard on Éponine and it felt like a heavy weight pressing her small shoulders towards the floor. Leaning against the wall, she felt her knees start to give way and she sank to the ground. She felt frightened tears prick at her eyes but she willed herself to keep it together. She could not let any of the men especially Enjolras, see her crying in fear. It would only give him greater reason to keep her away from the barricade.

It wasn't that she didn't wholeheartedly believe in the revolution and the necessity for change in France, but the possibility of many of these young men she had come to know and truly care about, would be dead in only a few days was weighing on her soul. They were all aware of the risk and had bravely accepted it, as had Éponine herself, yet she didn't seem to possess the vigor that carried them about the café now. She wanted to whole up in bed with Enjolras and keep him safe from harm, while they were eager to throw furniture in the streets and face the national guard head on. It wasn't even that she was afraid for her own life; it was _theirs_. Joly who would someday be a licensed doctor, and Grantaire who despite his cynicism was a glorious artist, and Marius who had only just found love, and Courfeyrac who brought humor to the group and loved her brother like his own, and Combeferre who was so knowledgeable and kind. They all had so much to look forward to and the idea that they may never live to achieve their full potential was heartbreaking.

She had been too absorbed in her thoughts to notice that Enjolras now stood beside her. He knelt down and lightly placed his hand on the side of her face, waiting for her to look up at him. "Is everything alright?" he murmured.

"Of course," she replied quickly, "this is what we've all been waiting for. I just can't believe it's finally happening. It's very real. And very dangerous."

"It doesn't have to be for you."

"Enjolras…" she sighed. He was not going to give up trying to convince her to stay home while the rebellion was happening.

"I just want you to be safe. If something were to happen to you it would be entirely my fault."

"No it would be a result of my own decisions. I'm not a child, Enjolras. I've decided this for myself. I'm going to be at that barricade."

"You mean hidden behind the barricade, helping Joly with the wounded?" he allowed.

Éponine rolled her eyes, but nodded and said "Oui monsieur," with a mock salute.

Enjolras smirked and kissed her on the forehead before straightening and returning to work. If he, and all these others, could be so brave fighting on the front lines, then she could be brave and help the wounded. Now was not the time for fear to engulf the revolutionary spirit.

**A/N: L'heure du destin = the hour of fate. What do you think will happen? PLEASE REVIEW!**


	18. The Last Time

**A/N: I have just planned out the next couple of chapters centered on the barricade and I'm ridiculously excited about the shit that's about to go down. Thank you so much for all your follows/favourites/reviews! It seriously means the world to me **

The next few days were some of the most frantic Éponine had ever experienced. General Lamarque's funeral procession was to be held on June 5 and that was when their barricade was to be erected. Not only the amis, but also the people of the street, were buzzing with the revolutionary spirit. The time was dangerously near and it appeared that Enjolras had gained the support necessary to achieve success with this rebellion. Éponine had returned to the slums to campaign for any last minute supporters she could pull on board. The amount of people already prepared to fight on the barricade was astounding and a true confirmation that they were doing the right thing for their country.

Enjolras was ball of nervous energy; everything he had been working towards was coming to fruition and he didn't seem to know what to do with himself. Instead of sleeping at night, he paced the length of their bedroom, deep in thought until Éponine's begging forced him to climb under the blankets with her. She could tell he only lied down to placate her and that he did not truly sleep much. When he did sleep however, he thrashed back and forth, once bruising Éponine in the process. In the morning when he realized what he had done, he apologized profusely and refused to share a bed with her for the next two nights leading up to the rebellion, during which he essentially lived in the café Musain.

On the evening of June 4th, a crowd began to gather outside of the café. Hordes of beggars and street people crowded on the cobblestones and waited to be addressed by the rebellion's leader. Several amis gasped excitedly and their eyes lit up when they saw the sheer number of people who had gathered to fight behind them.

"Merci beaucoup," Enjolras began, leaning out the window above the crowd. "I am honored that you are all willing to risk your lives for the betterment of our motherland. The knowledge that I have the support of all of you standing behind me, leaves me with little doubt that we cannot succeed in our noble mission." The people erupted in applause and excited shouts and Enjolras went silent for a moment, taking it all in, before continuing. "There's a new world for the winning. At the barricades of freedom, will you take your place with me?"

"We fight with you!" the amis shouted. A smile graced Enjolras' full lips and he gave Éponine's hand a quick squeeze.

"Excellent," he murmured, facing his friends. "We shall meet at General Lamarque's funeral procession tomorrow morning. Everyone go rest, we have a long couple of days ahead of us. It will be well worth all the sacrifices in the end."

The men slowly filed out of the room and the crowd on the street dissipated after vowing to return to erect the barricade the following day. Finally, Éponine and Enjolras were the only ones left in the room. He pulled her in by the waist and pressed his lips tensely to hers. There was a burning sense of urgency emanating from his entire form. He was kissing her as though it may be the last time, Éponine realized sadly. She reached up to tangle her fingers in his thick curls and attempted to convey every emotion she had ever felt for him through her kiss. He pulled away after a heated moment and sighed heavily. "Let's go home," he murmured into her hair. She simply nodded and released her grip on him, holding his hand instead.

They walked slowly down the empty streets, bathed in moonlight. It was an eerily peaceful night -the calm before the storm. Enjolras yearned to tell Éponine again how much he truly loved her, but he held his tongue, fearing that his words might sound like a goodbye. Though he was certain, that with all the reinforcement their little band of students had gained, the rebellion would be a success, there was still too many variables and unknowns for him to be one hundred percent convinced. He was the leader after all, if anyone should die on that barricade he felt it should be him. He could not express that to Éponine of course.

They reached the apartment and closed the door behind them with a heavy clunk. The silence that followed was deafening. All the anxious fervor that had been felt over the last couple of days had quickly died off. Now it was real. Their lives were at risk and Enjolras was the one leading the charge. He pushed his hair out of his face and looked to Éponine. She stood several feet away, running her fingers over his desk full of maps and plans and looking rather lost. "If I die-" he started, ending the period of quiet, but Éponine cut him off.

"Don't," was all she said. She did not look up at him, but rather strolled towards the bedroom, her hips swaying to ensure his attention. He followed, catching up with her before she could reach the bed. Wrapping his arms around her from behind, he pressed his lips to her neck and felt her sigh heavily. "We're not going to die," she murmured. "I don't care if you're riddled with bullet holes like swiss cheese. Joly will pull every last one of them out of you while I keep your heart beating with my own hands if I have to. You cannot die on me. Don't be a martyr; live to see justice be done."

"Je t'aime," he murmured in response, kissing her neck again.

"I'm serious," she huffed, turning around to distance herself slightly. "Don't tell me you love me like it's your last chance. Don't try to pacify me with affection."

"I'm not. I just need you to be prepared for the reality of the situation," he groaned, running his fingers through his hair with frustration.

"I'm fully aware that our lives are at risk, but just for tonight could you feign total confidence? You've done it a million times before in every speech you've ever made. So for my sake could you just imagine with me everything working out perfectly?"

"Of course," he conceded. They quickly stripped off their clothes and climbed beneath the covers together. There, wrapped in each other's arms, the pair finally slept soundly for perhaps the very last time.

**A/N: Next chapter: BARRICADE! Hope you're on the edge of your seats to find out what's going to happen. Please review!**


	19. Behind The Barricade

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Barricade here we come!**

The heavy silence was broken by the sound of horses hooves against the cobblestones, growing louder as the funeral procession approached. Enjolras, Éponine, and the other amis all lined the street. An incredibly large hoard of people had shown up ready to do whatever necessary to free their country from the monarchy. They all stood silently, anxious and uncertain about what was going to unfold. The carriage holding General Lamarque's coffin rounded a corner, officers marched solemnly alongside it and the young revolutionaries prepared themselves to strike. Nervous glances captured Enjolras move into position in the middle of the street, thrusting his flag high in the air and waving it exultantly. The others burst into action, running to overtake the carriage. Marius climbed on top of the stagecoach and Enjolras ran to join him. The crowd surrounded, overwhelming the procession. Éponine followed close to the cart, admiring Enjolras proudly as he held up the banner and trying not to get lost in the shuffle. She was dressed in men's clothing both out of comfort and convenience.

"Halt!" a man's voice shouted from ahead of them. The National Guard faced them, guns drawn and trained on Enjolras. Éponine's heart thudded nervously in her chest as she watched him draw his weapon with conviction. The tension was tangible between the two opposing groups. Both appeared to be waiting for the other to make the first move.

A shot pierced the air and several screams and gasps escaped from the mouths of shocked and frightened people. A middle-aged woman fell backwards into the crowd, clutching her chest where the bullet had entered. "Murderer!" Combeferre yelled at the young nervous guardsman responsible for her death. "She's an innocent woman!"

The guard was hauled out of his hiding place and swiftly executed by the revolutionaries. All at once everyone started to move again, statues coming back to life in an abrupt panic. "To the barricades!" Enjolras hollered over the roar of people. He climbed deftly down from his perch atop General Lamarque's chariot and ran through the crowd, grabbing Éponine's hand as he went and leading her back towards the café. People were already beginning to throw furniture into the street. The pair wove nimbly through a maze of fallen chairs and eager people towards the Musain and behind the barricade, which was quickly coming together. People were grabbing every errant piece of furniture or random object they could find and were throwing it hastily onto the haphazard pile.

"We need all the furniture you can throw down!" Courfeyrac hollered towards the second story windows. A group of men overturned a stagecoach, giving great height to the growing blockade and a piano came crashing out a window, narrowly taking out an urchin boy. The men quickly rushed behind the barrier as they heard the marching of the National Guard approach.

"Stay here," Enjolras murmured to Éponine at the door of the café. He held her face in his hands and pressed a quick kiss to forehead before turning on his heal and scaling to the top of the barricade. This was a rather difficult feat considering it was quite the death trap of unstable and unrecognizable mangles of wood and foreign objects. He balanced the flag atop the chaotic blockade and took hold of a gun, pointing it expertly and the oncoming men. Éponine held her breath as the first gunshots sounded. She swallowed hard and went to help Joly prepare for an onslaught of wounded fighters. He was laying out bandages and medicinal ointments for easy access and handed her a large piece of cloth to rip more makeshift bandages from. She went straight to work tearing it into as neat of strips as she could and placing them in a pile in front of her. Joly was humming nervously as if trying to drown out the sound of his friends fighting just outside their front door. She wasn't the only one having a hard time. Éponine reached out and squeezed his hand comfortingly and he flashed her a grateful grin, but it was cut short by a young man stumbling through the door clutching his arm. Joly sprung into action, leaving her to quietly observe his expertise.

As the sun began to set on the first grueling day at the barricade, she wandered outside the café to search for any men in need of medical attention. Bodies were strewn about on the stone street and she was thankful that she didn't recognize any faces. There were guardsmen and students all over the mound of furniture, bloodied and fighting. Some men were actively engaged in combat, while other hung back slightly reloading guns and handing them to the appropriate people. Enjolras was firing off rounds with great precision in between ducking from stray bullets and fighting off other men with his bare hands. She could see blood on his hands and some smeared gruesomely across his forehead, but she tried not to panic. It was clear from watching him for only a few seconds that he was capable of handling himself in a fight.

Éponine looked over and saw Marius climbing the barricade with a keg of gunpowder in one hand and a lit torch in the other. He seemed completely oblivious to the guard just above him who was about to fire in his direction. "Idiot," Éponine growled. He was about to get himself killed. He just found the love of his life and he was about to leave Cosette forever. She could immediately envision herself in Cosette's position and though she did not love him as she once had, the thought of Marius dying when he had so much to live for caused still her heart to ache. She scrambled towards him yelling his name, but he looked up to late. "No!" she screamed. Éponine grabbed the barrel of the gun in the same instant the trigger was pulled. A searing pain in her side caused her to stagger back and slump to the ground.

She heard Gavroche cry out her name before everything went black.

**A/N: Cliffhanger! Review!**


	20. To Be Without

**A/N: Thank you for your reviews! Finally the wait is over after that cliffhanger last chapter! Hope you guys like it!**

Éponine's eyes fluttered open. Her head was swimming and she couldn't seem to hold it upright. Gavroche was hugging her fiercely, his gangly little arms wrapped around her shoulders and tears streaming down his face leaving clean trails in the grime that muddied his complexion.

"Fall back or I'll blow the barricade," she heard Marius say from somewhere above her. She listened to angry shouts and an order for the guards to retreat. It was as if she was on the other side of a long tunnel, the way words and sounds seemed echoed and distant. Enjolras descended the barricade with Marius' torch and handed it to another of the amis.

"You could've gotten us all killed Marius!" Combeferre shouted, but Marius wasn't listening. He noticed Éponine hunched over on herself and knelt down beside her.

"What have you done?" he questioned her, pulling her hand away from her bleeding wound and forcing Gavroche to release the tight grip he had on his eldest sister.

"Éponine?" Enjolras cried, pushing Marius aside, taking her face in his hands and staring into her non-focusing eyes. "No… no… no," he mumbled to himself in a broken voice, frantically pulling up the side of her shirt to examine her injury. _I cannot lose her_, he thought to himself, _this woman owns my heart and soul_. To be without Éponine would be the worst thing imaginable. He huffed a sigh in relief, releasing his held breath all at once when he saw that the bullet had just grazed her. It left a torn gash that was bleeding fairly badly, but it was certainly not a fatal wound. He ran a hand through his hair to push it back out of his eyes and took a few unsteady breaths, his eyes tightly shut to hold back tears.

"Don't you fret," she murmured, smiling exhaustedly at him. "I don't feel any pain." Yet she winced and sharply sucked in a breath between clenched teeth as he pressed the ripped fabric of her shirt to her injured flesh.

"You promised you would stay away," Enjolras muttered and opened his eyes slowly, blinking away the moisture a couple times before continuing. "You promised you wouldn't do anything stupid."

"She saved my life," Marius interjected, earning him a glare from Enjolras. "I should have been paying more attention. This is all my fault."

"I will be fine. Don't worry about it Marius. I just need Joly to stitch me up and then I'll be good to go," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her breathing was uneven and hitched as each little movement caused a searing pain.

"No, you need rest," Enjolras murmured. He had pulled her onto his lap and was somewhat cradling her as he applied pressure to her wound to slow the bleeding. "I should take you home."

"Nuh uh," Éponine slurred and struggled to keep her eyelids open, "I'll sleep in the café and I'll be ready when the soldiers come back."

Enjolras sighed but didn't argue with her. He just continued to cling to her as Joly stitched up her side and applied a dressing over the angry looking gash. The men began to wind down from the adrenaline-fueled day. Some presumed lookout positions, while others took their turn sleeping in odd and very uncomfortable looking positions, resting their heads on whatever surface of the barricade suited them. After the day they had had, none were very choosey, but rather grateful to be resting. Éponine drifted in and out of a dreamless slumber. She felt horribly groggy and weak from blood loss, but that didn't seem to stop her from jerking awake anytime a man so much as shifted his weight near her. Her heart thudded erratically each time she snapped her head up and it would take even longer for her to fall back asleep. She opened her eyes to see Enjolras wiping a tear from his cheek.

"Don't cry," she murmured, taking him by surprise. He had wrongly assumed that she was fast asleep. "I'm going to be perfectly fine."

"I know," he choked. "But for a minute there I though I had lost you forever. I thought you had gone and gotten yourself killed and that you were leaving me. The thought of continuing on without you was unbearable. I was simultaneously heartbroken and furious -both with you and myself. I feel guilty for it now, but I was livid that you risked your life and foolishly resentful that it was on Marius' behalf because of your past feelings for him."

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, lifting a hand to caress his cheek and wipe away another silent tear that had fallen. "I no longer love him the same way, but he is a dear friend. I would have done it for any of them."

"I know and I understand, but you are too compassionate and bold and it nearly got you killed. I can't be without you, Éponine. I thought you were gone forever and that I would never see your eyes full of life ever again. It just solidified to me, the significant effect you've had on me. To be without that… life surely could not go on."

"I love you," she stated simply, unable to properly express herself at the moment out of sheer exhaustion and overwhelming emotion.

"Marry me," he blurted out suddenly. It was more a statement than a question. He looked down at Éponine, her eyes were as big as saucers and she seemed more alert than she had in hours. He planted a firm kiss on her lips and repeated himself, changing his intonation slightly. "Marry me?"

"Are you serious?" She was utterly flabbergasted. A proposal was the last thing she expected to come from the barricade.

"Of course. I love you and I need you in my life. I'd be honored to have you as a wife. Will you marry me Éponine Thénardier?" His words sounded so certain and full of sincerity that Éponine's mouth fell open slightly, she was still in a state of total shock.

"But –but I'm no one," she muttered, "You come from wealth and high status, won't this embarrass your family?"

"This entire revolution is an embarrassment to my family. In comparison, marrying the woman I love will be a blessing regardless of your lineage. Besides, I have never cared too much for the uppity opinions of others. I care about you and being bound together in everyway humanly possible. When we make it out of this together –_alive_- I want to make you my wife and be your doting husband. So, my proposal stands."

"Yes," she whispered immediately. Her eyes welled with tears and she kissed his face excitedly. "Yes!" she repeated more cheerfully. "I'll marry you." Enjolras pressed his lips feverishly to hers, adoration radiating from his entire body. His arms encircled her, staking his claim on her heart and soul, she felt herself finally let down her guard completely, all bravado and falsehoods vanishing, a warm tingling sensation taking their place and setting fire to her skin wherever he touched her. They would never have to be without; she was his and he was hers. And there, in the dark corner of the café she'd come to know so well, surrounded by groggy school boys wielding guns, Éponine felt whole and despite the ferocious scar she would have as a constant reminder of the horrible acts faced at this barricade, this was the best day of her young life for someone finally loved her as much as she loved them –fiercely, wholeheartedly, and irrevocably.

**A/N: Soooooo what do you think? I'm dying to know! I laid it on a little thick with the lovey dovey stuff, but I wanted this to be a really special and romantic chapter. Let me know in the reviews!**


	21. Le Pire

**A/N: WHOA OVER 11000 views! That's insane, thank you all so much. PLEASE CONTINUE TO REVIEW! I LOVE hearing from you guys because knowing that people are enjoying my writing only inspires me to continue and update faster!**

They awoke to the sounds of young men hollering a warning of the National Guards return. Enjolras scrambled to his feet and helped Éponine carefully to hers so as not to pull her stitches. "I have to go," he murmured, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Please do no leave this café." She nodded solemnly and squeezed his hand; he gave her a stern look before turning and bursting out the front door. She saw someone immediately hand him a gun and her heart clenched with fear.

Éponine sighed uneasily. There have already been several unfortunate fatalities -men young and old that would never laugh or love again. All she could do was hope that their deaths would not be in vain. Those who were injured thus far were all expected to pull through and at least that was some sort of consolation. Everyone she knew and loved was still alive and fighting and she prayed that it would stay that way. Her and Joly sat in anxious silence, waiting for a patient, a surrender, a sign of some sort that would tell them it was all over, anything. But all they heard for a long time was gunshots, shouting, and other horrifying sounds of battle. It felt as if a weight was sitting on her chest that would only be lifted when she knew Enjolras was safe and this was all over.

"Gavroche come back!" she heard shouted in Courfeyrac's familiar voice. Her and Joly both jumped up at the same time and a wave of dread overwhelmed the pit of her stomach and for a moment she thought she might vomit at the thought of her brother in danger. Joly grabbed her arm to keep her from falling back to the ground. She shook her head and pulled away, bolting for the door and completely ignoring Enjolras' order to stay put.

"Éponine, don't!" Joly yelled, but she wasn't listening. She couldn't let her little brother die out there; he was just a little kid who shouldn't be involved in matters beyond his years.

Enjolas had also snapped to attention at the sound of Gavroche's name. He had grown fond of the street urchin and his unabashed enthusiasm for this rebellion and knowing he was Éponine's younger brother only softened his heart for the cunning little kid even more. Now however, he feared greatly for his safety. Courfeyrac was at the top of the barricade being help back by Combeferre as he tried to fling himself over to Gavroche's aid. Pained cries escaped Courfeyrac's mouth as he pleaded for his little friend to come back. Gavroche just smiled at him from the other side of the barricade where he was collecting ammunition from the bodies of dead soldiers and wholly exposing himself to the dangerous gunmen.

Éponine crashed into Enjolras, her face marred with concern. "Where's Gavroche?" she cried, "He shouldn't be here. What is he doing here?" She noticed Courfeyrac frantic at the top of the barricade when a shot rang out. The men went silent for a heartbeat and she could hear the pained grunts of a child coming from the other side before Courfeyrac began yelling at the National Guardsmen. Another shot silenced both him and Gavroche.

Enjolras hugged Éponine tightly to his chest and Courfeyrac went around the barricade to retrieve the young boy's body. He returned and fell to his knees, Gavroche clutched to his chest as he sobbed. Éponine dropped to the ground beside him and wrapped her arms around both the man and the boy, feeling agonized and defeated. Enjolras and Combeferre stood back helplessly as the pair sobbed over Gavroche's limp body. The fire in Enjolras' belly consumed him with rage and he climbed the barricade. "We must face our foes –make them bleed while we can!" He shouted, pointing his gun.

"Make them pay through the nose," Combeferre muttered as he comforted the distraught pair.

"Make them pay for every man!" Courfeyrac added intensely, a hand still resting on the boy he considered family.

"Let us rise and fight until the earth is free!" Enjolras hollered before firing at their opposition. The battle resumed with a renewed sense of vigor –each man was acutely aware of exactly what they were fighting for. A line was crossed when a young boy was cruelly executed and the men were not about to let the guards get away with such an atrocious offence. Courfeyrac leaped to his feet and grabbed his gun, consumed by fury over his fallen brother. Éponine picked up Gavroche's body and carefully carried him inside. She placed him gently on the floor and simply sat with him for a while.

"I'm so sorry," Joly whispered after several long minutes.

"Me too," she murmured in response, wiping the tears out of her eyes.

She tried to busy herself with changing some of the men's bandages and observing Joly as he checked people's pulses or stitched up cuts. She needed the distraction from the empty ache in her heart. It was impossible to wrap her head around the fact that she would never see the sly twinkle in Gavroche's eye or his mischievous grin ever again. She would never see him grow into a gangly teenager and then a man; he would forever be a young boy, struck down way too soon. He was so self-sufficient and bold with an admirable strength and obvious leadership qualities when seen with the other abandoned street urchin children. He did not deserve an ending like this, but his death would not be for nothing. This rebellion _had_ to bring freedom to France or Éponine would forever feel guilty over the manner of her brother's demise.

After what seemed like an endless period of time she wandered over to the door and stared morosely out the window. Bodies were piling up and she grimaced as she recognized the dirty faces of people she had seen on the streets before and also attendees of the many rallies the amies had held. _We're losing_, Éponine thought. There seemed to be endless amounts of guards and our numbers were dwindling. _Maybe more will join us_, she prayed helplessly. She pressed her cheek against the glass to search for Enjolras. He was fighting with several guards at the far end of the barricade. As she watched, a guard knocked his gun from his grasp and he stumbled backwards a few feet away from the men. The guards raised their weapons and Enjolras attempted to duck behind an overturned table, but it was too late.

Éponine watched in horror as Enjolras took the bullets in the chest, throwing him off balance and causing him to fall backwards off the barricade. He seemed to be dropping in slow motion, but everyone seemed frozen in place and unable to reach him. "No!" she screamed in dread. His arms flailed for something to grab to stop his fall, but there was nothing and no one could get to him fast enough. His head connected with the stone street with a sickening crunch. Time returned to its normal pace and Éponine ran to him with little regard for what was going on around her. She threw herself to the ground next to his limp body and cupped his face in her hands. "Enjolras?" she cried desperately. "Please," she pleaded before being reduced to hysterical sobs. How cruel to have everything she loved taken away when she finally felt truly happy. She screamed for Joly and he promptly came running. When he reached them, he immediately pressed his fingers to the side of Enjolras' neck and smiled slightly when he found a pulse. Éponine held her breath and waited for the prognosis.

"He's alive, but his pulse is weak and he is probably concussed," he stated clinically, "We need to get him out of here immediately." Blood was quickly pooling around them from the multiple bullet holes pierced through Enjolras' abdomen. Joly tugged his shirt off over the blond curls that were becoming matted with blood to assess the damage the bullets had done. Éponine gasped when she saw the torn, exposed flesh of Enjolras' chest. An image of his previously smooth and flawless skin flashed behind Éponine's eyelids. Her vision swam and she thought she might black out at the horrific sight. It was a wonder he was alive. Joly began wrapping gauze around him and applying pressure to slow the bleeding. Éponine released her held breath and tried to stop her tears from falling. The man she loved needed her, she couldn't let her emotions take over and cloud her judgment.

Also having witnessed their leader fall, Combeferre and Courfeyrac rushed over. They stared feebly at him, both with tear-filled eyes. "Combeferre, Enjolras would want you left in charge," Éponine pronounced, getting a hold of her emotions and feeling determined not to let another person she loves die. "Courfeyrac help me take him home please. And Joly," she paused looking at him suddenly feeling exhausted, "please meet us there as soon as you can."

The men just nodded, not wanting to argue with the crazed looking young woman. She somehow felt livid and detached at the same time. With Enjolras proposing, yesterday was the best day of her life, but everything had changed in an instant and it felt like she was spiraling out of control. She realized that her emotional distance was her falling back into old habits to protect herself. If she didn't care, it didn't have to hurt. But this did hurt, it hurt more than anything she had ever experienced. Losing her brother was the first crushing blow, but now the man she loved was also fighting for his life. She had no idea how to deal with the immense grief she felt so she tried to block it out, push it down deep inside and forget about it, but it was impossible to ignore. If she lost Enjolras too, she didn't know how she would cope. Surely moving on would be unbearable. The thought alone was unimaginable.

"C'est le pire jour de ma vie," she muttered as her and Courfeyrac lifted Enjolras' limp body as carefully as possible and headed for home. He looked at her with deep sorrowful eyes and she could tell he was hurting just as badly as she was.

**A/N: Well I believe this was the most depressing chapter so far. My apologies for ripping your hearts out of your chests. But hey! It can only get better… or not… the agony might not be over yet… REVIEW PRETTY PRETTY PLEASE!**

**C'est le pire jour de ma vie = This is the worst day of my life. Therefore, Le pire = the worst.**


	22. Perfect Stranger

**A/N: Thank you for continuing to read! I hope you enjoy this chapter despite the fact that it may very well break your heart. Sorry if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes, I got my wisdom teeth out and I'm a little fuzzy on pain meds.**

Éponine and Courfeyrac placed Enjolras as gently as possible onto the bed when they arrived back at the apartment. They sat at his bedside, helplessly, not knowing how to help. Mercifully, Joly arrived rather quickly after them with all of his medical supplies.

"The battle is over," he announced triumphantly, "The National Guard surrendered!" Despite this positive statement, there was great sorrow in his eyes.

"What is it?" Courfeyrac whispered, seeming afraid to hear the answer.

"Not all of the amis made it," Joly responded, his eyes cast downwards.

"Who?" Éponine breathed. She didn't need to form the entire question in order for him to understand that she wished to know who had perished at the barricade.

"Feuilly, Bahorel, Lesgles, Jean Prouvaire," he listed off, "We're not sure about Marius. His body wasn't accounted for; he must have gotten away."

They all went silent. Joly went to work on Enjolras, removing the musket balls from his ravaged skin. Éponine gripped his unconscious hand and winced on his behalf with the removal of each bullet and subsequently each stitch that pulled his torn flesh back to its former position. There were eight gunshot wounds in total that had pierced his upper body. It was nothing short of a miracle that all of his vital organs appeared to have remained in tact.

When Joly was finally finished, Courfeyrac brought in a pale of warm water and a cloth. The men left the room as Éponine dunked the cloth into the water and wrung it out before using it to clean the blood from Enjolras' skin. She gently wiped around his cuts to reveal purple bruised skin underneath. It was hard to look at his formerly smooth and flawless chest now transformed into a ravaged and scarred expanse of discolored skin. She felt so much raw emotion inside of her, but her eyes were dry and sore and out of tears. As she washed the last of the blood and dirt from his pale face, she dropped the soiled cloth back into the dark red water and applied bandages to his wounds as Joly had instructed before sitting back in the chair at his bedside with a heavy sigh. He was so still, unflinching in his unconsciousness. His skin was unusually pallid and his cheeks seemed more sunken in than usual. Despite his rough appearance, his face was more relaxed than she'd ever seen it, even in sleep, which caused him to look much younger. There has no emotion in his face like there would be if he were dreaming; she wondered if he would ever wake up fro, his deep cataleptic slumber.

That night she slept curled up awkwardly in the chair at his bedside. The other surviving amis had converged on the apartment during the night and she awoke to a room full of filthy, beaten up men fast asleep in various positions on the floor. There was a somber mood throughout the day. No one seemed to want to talk about the events that took place at the barricade or the fate of their leader lying lifelessly in the next room. Éponine only left his side when she had to. She didn't want him to wake up alone and worried about what happened to himself and his revolution.

The first day following the rebellion was lackluster, but went by fairly quickly. It was the next two days that seemed to slow down to a near halt. Nothing had changed with Enjolras' condition. Though Éponine pleaded with Joly and Combeferre to figure out how to wake him, there was no way to know if or when he would ever wake up or if he would still be his old self when he did. It was the unknowing that caused her so much discomfort. Gavroche had died instantly with the shot and though she was still grieving him, she knew he was safe now and would never go hungry or have to spend another night alone or afraid. Somehow Enjolras' heart was still beating, his lungs still filled with air slowly, but rhythmically. He was shielded from pain now, but what would the recovery be like if he woke up? He was such a stubborn and independent man, it would be impossibly hard for him to lay in bed while others catered to him. And he would be in so much pain. Not just physically –though in that form it would be immense- but also emotionally. His rebellion was successful, but his friends had died. Though they made the decision on their own to risk their lives for their worthy cause, Enjolras would still blame himself for their unfortunate fate. He would never forgive himself for leading the charge to their deaths and would be overcome with guilt, thinking that it should have been him who died.

Somehow, in the tense apartment, Éponine made an unlikely friend in Grantaire. He was cynical and typically drunk, but he cared for Enjolras as much as she did. He was emotionally wrecked that he only survived the battle because he drank himself into a stupor and was passed out safely inside the café for the majority of the revolution. He wasn't drinking now though, as he kept reminding, repeatedly stating that he was "painfully sober". He would never admit it aloud, but Éponine knew he felt guilty that he wasn't there for Enjolras, especially when he was injured. It was the reason he was no longer drinking; he wanted to be sober when Enjolras woke up and he didn't want to miss another crucial moment because of alcohol.

Éponine found she rather liked Grantaire. She had always found him amusing the way he drunkenly argued with Enjolras and seeming pleased with himself when he got him so worked up that his face was red and he was yelling at him from across the room. Knowing that Enjolras had always thought of him as something of a nuisance didn't matter to her. He was quite clever and witty even when drunk, and they formed a quick bond after talking at Enjolras' bedside.

On the third day following Enjolras' injury and the end of the rebellion, Éponine was urged by Combeferre to leave his bedside to bathe and eat. Assuming there would continue to be no change in his condition, she allowed herself to be persuaded for a short period. She had to admit, she was rather filthy and her stomach was grumbling continuously.

Submerged in hot water, she felt her muscles finally relax as much as possible given the situation. The water around her became red due to the dried blood she was covered in belonging both to her and Enjolras. She scrubbed her skin harshly, no longer wanting any reminder of his brutal condition. As she was toweling off afterwards she heard Joly's voice shouting her name. Knowing it had to be about Enjolras, she tugged a clean dress on over her head as quickly as she could and ran out the bathroom door.

* * *

"Joly?" a tired, raspy voice whispered. Joly spun around and saw Enjolras' eyes slightly open beneath droopy lids, a look of confusion on his face.

"Éponine!" Joly hollered out the door and quickly returned to Enjolras' side. "How are you feeling?" He pulled a notebook out of his pocket to jot down his friends condition.

"Terrible," he muttered, still struggling to keep his heavy eyelids from closing. His head was aching, but even more agonizing were the several sharp, searing pains across his upper body. He tried, but had no recollection of what had happened to put him in this situation. Had the amis first rally somehow become a riot? "What happened?"

Joly grew nervous that Enjolras didn't appear to remember being shot. "You hit your head," he said cautiously, "What is the last thing you remember?"

"The rally we just held. The first of many I assume," he muttered, obviously thinking Joly's question absurd. "Rather disappointing turnout, we must figure out how to spread our message to more people on the street if we're going to acquire the necessary support for our revolution. Did it turn into a riot? Is that how I was injured?"

"No, there was no riot," he said, unsure of how to explain to his friend that he had apparently lost some of his memory.

"How long have I been unconscious?" He hoped whatever injury he had incurred wouldn't prevent him from continuing to plan. The amis needed his guidance, he had to get to the café.

"Three days. Do you know what the date is?"

"Well the rally was September 3rd. So, September 6th?"

Joly sucked in a breath. If the last thing Enjolras remembers happened nine months ago not only did he not remember the revolution, but he wouldn't even know who Éponine was. As soon as this horrible thought donned on him, the young woman in question burst through the door. Her face immediately lit up and a huge smile pulled up the corners of her mouth when she saw Enjolras' open eyes. She ran to his bedside and tenderly cupped his tired face in her hands. "I can't believe you're awake," she murmured, tears falling soundlessly down her cheeks. "I was so worried about you. My life would be over if you died." She placed a soft kiss on his forehead, but Enjolras pulled back looking disgruntled.

"Éponine…" Joly started softy, unsure of how to tell her that the man she was in love with and engaged to marry had no memory of her. But Enjolras beat him to it.

"Excuse me mademoiselle, but I don't appreciate being kissed by perfect strangers," he said, his tone almost rude. He eyed Éponine disdainfully as a look of total shock took over her face.

"Stranger?" she cried, taking a step back as if he had slapped her across the face.

He stated very clearly as if explaining something to a young child, "I have no idea who you are."

**A/N: Told you the agony wasn't over yet. I'm sorry I killed a bunch of them, but it had to be done! You were warned this was a happy story. PLEASE REVIEW!**


	23. Lost Time

**A/N: Sorry this chapter isn't going to be any happier. Please continue to review! I really appreciate all the follows and favourites!**

"How do you not know me? What are you talking about? Joly, what is he talking about?" Éponine sputtered, looking back and forth between the golden haired man who glared at her in uncertainty and the medical student who was looking at her pitifully. By this point the rest of the men had gathered to greet the now awake Enjolras. He had greeted them all with a small, but genuine smile, his eye alight with recognition as he took in the amis familiar faces. It was far different from the look Éponine had received.

"He thinks that it is last September," Joly stated as calmy as he could, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Éponine… I'm sorry, he seems to have no memory of your entire relationship."

"What relationship?" Enjolras cut in. His eyebrows were furrowed in a confused line as he glanced back and forth between Joly and Éponine, the corners of his mouth pulled down in a frustrated scowl.

"Are you kidding me?" she sobbed, looking at Enjolras with a horrified expression. "Is this some sort of sick joke because if it is, I need you to stop it right now!"

"I assure you mademoiselle, I do not joke," Enjolras said to her disdainfully, "Please stop your hysterics, I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Enjolras, it's June 9, 1832," Combeferre said softly to his closest friend. Éponine sobbed into Grantaire's chest and he wrapped his arms around her small frame, his eyes on Enjolras. If he had held her like this a few days ago, Enjolras would have strongly disapproved of their contact, but he didn't seem to be paying any attention to the sobbing young woman anymore.

"What on Earth do you mean?" Enjolras questioned. Nothing they were saying was making any sense to him.

"The rebellion ended three days ago," Combeferre said slowly, trying to gauge Enjolras' reaction. "You were shot multiple times and fell and hit you head. It must have affected your memory. You cannot recall any of the last nine months?"

His eyes were wide and he thought for several long minutes before he spoke. "This cannot be," he muttered almost to himself. What they were saying explained the immense stabbing pains he was feeling across his upper body, but it was impossible to think that he couldn't remember any of it. "We just held the first rally, the revolution cannot possibly have already taken place! Surely I would remember the event I've dedicated my life to!"

"It has indeed happened and it will give you great pleasure to know that we succeeded," Combeferre informed him.

A smile graced his pallid face for a fleeting moment before his eyebrows drew together once again as he looked around the room. "Where is Bahorel? And Feuilly? Lesgles? Pontmercy?" His voice grew more frantic with each name.

Everyone gazed sadly downwards, not wanting to look him in the eye. Combeferre finally said, "We are not certain of Marius' fate, but the others…"

"They perished at the barricade," he murmured, finishing his statement. "Was their anyone else lost?"

"Gavroche," both Éponine and Courfeyrac said in unison. Enjolras put his head in his hands and took several deep breaths before looking up at the room full of people again. His eyes went straight to Éponine.

"What is your name?" he asked softly.

She wiped the tears from her face, looking incredibly hurt that he had no recollection of her. "Éponine," she muttered hatefully. Though she knew it wasn't his fault, she was furious with him. He may not have died, but it appeared that the life they had together, did.

"What relationship where you speaking of?" It was obvious he was trying to remain calm, but Éponine could see the emotion boiling beneath the surface. He was frustrated and confused, but he was making an effort now to be sensitive to her feelings.

She put a hand over her eyes, feeling oddly embarrassed. "You asked me to marry you the day before you were injured."

Enjolras scoffed. "Impossible," he stated with so much certainty that Éponine had to dig her nails into the palm of her hand to stop herself from crying all over again. "I'm dedicated to freeing this country, I never would have begun a romantic relationship with any woman." He glanced around at his friends, looking for assurance that he was right and Éponine was just some delusional woman who had attached herself to him, but none of them were laughing with him in disbelief of her outrageous fable.

"She isn't lying," Joly murmured.

"You are so happy together," Courfeyrac added, "Nine months ago, I never would have believed it either, but you're quite taken with her."

"It's true, Enjolras," included Combeferre, "You two have fallen in love quite fantastically. She is a large part of why we won the rebellion because of all the support she brought in. We had so many people fighting on our side thanks to her."

Enjolras' eyes were wide in disbelief. He couldn't process the massive amount of information they were unloading on him. "May I be alone please?" he said in a monotone voice, no longer making eye contact with any of them. He was beginning to withdraw into himself right before their eyes. Éponine longed to go to him, to hold his hand and kiss him and tell him everything would be okay, but this wasn't _her_ Enjolras. She didn't even recognize the way he looked at her.

"Of course," said Joly, ushering people out of the room, "this is a lot to take in. He needs his rest in order to heal and he must be feeling incredibly overwhelmed. Try to be understanding." Everyone except for the medical student left the room. He hovered over Enjolras, checking his stiches and changing his bandages.

"This cannot be real," Enjolras muttered, rubbing his eyes and wincing as Joly's light touch hit a sore spot, which seemed to be most of his body. Joly gave him something for pain.

"It is," he responded sympathetically. "Éponine has been an absolute mess with worry. She's barely left your bedside this entire time."

"I don't even know her, Joly."

"But you did, and she knows you -better than anyone perhaps. We were all just as surprised to learn of your relationship as you are now, but it is so apparent to everyone who sees you two together that you are meant to be. I've never seen you so happy."

"Did I really ask her to marry me? Out of genuine love?"

"Yes. You were both extremely thrilled. Éponine had been shot, you were terrified you were about to lose her –you were crying even after you knew she would live. You decided you wanted to publicly declare your love and be tied together in everyway possible. She had already won your heart and you wanted it to stay that way forever. If you ask me, whether you regain your memory or not, you will find your way back to each other."

Enjolras fought back tears. "I wake up to discover I have forgotten a whole nine months of my life, including the rebellion I had dedicated myself to, which has killed several of my friends, and on top of that I have no memory of this woman I'm supposedly in love with?" It was too much, he felt like his head might explode. All of it was too much to wrap his mind around. Falling in love with this apparently random woman seemed so unlike him.

"I'm sorry this has happened to you, Enjolras," Joly said earnestly.

"Will I get my memory back, Joly?"

"I hope so, but really it's impossible to say. I'll leave you alone now." He placed a comforting hand on his friend's should for a brief moment before turning on his heal to leave. He paused with his hand on the doorknob and turned back to look at his friend. "Don't shut her out. If you're going to regain your memory, talking with Éponine is probably the best way to go about it. Make up for lost time." He turned back and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

**A/N: AHHHH! REVIEW! I'll get the next chapter up as soon as possible!**


	24. The Key

**A/N: Thank you so much for the feedback; please keep it coming! In case you have also hit your head like Enjolras and forgotten, I do not own anything Les Mis, the plot is mine, but nothing else.**

Enjolras was lost. His life no longer made sense to him and he was confined to a bed, forced to confront it. The amis were a constant presence –the living eager to help return his body and mind to proper health; the dead haunting his guilt ridden conscience. Éponine however had grown uncharacteristically quiet. Despite her immense desire to never leave his side, the lack of recognition in his eyes when she entered the room made her blood run cold. To protect herself from more grief she stayed away from the bedroom as much as she could handle before the need to see him and know that he was still breathing overwhelmed her. She could feel herself withdraw, but she didn't know what else to do or how to stop the walls from surrounding her again. Each uncertain look and noncommittal gesture on Enjolras' part added another stone to the protective barrier encasing her anguished heart.

"You can't abandon him Éponine," Combeferre told her in exasperation one afternoon just five days after Enjolras had regained consciousness.

"I'm not abandoning him, he doesn't know me!" she shouted, feeling the pain of her own words.

"He needs you now more than ever," he said, his voice raised passionately, "the best chance he has of regaining his memory is in talking to you! Make him remember your life together! Show him why you fell in love!"

Éponine sighed heavily, looking down at her feet. He was right and she knew it, but she was nervous and strangely intimidated by this stranger who was Enjolras. This was the man who existed months before they ever met; he wasn't the same person he had become with her.

Combeferre's hand came to rest on her shoulder. "You two were brought together for a reason, just because his memory has vanished doesn't mean the connection has as well."

She smiled brightly up at him before throwing her arms around his waist. Her eyes welled with tears and she prayed that he was right and that somehow the bond forged between her and Enjolras would bring him back to her.

* * *

The door creaked open and Enjolras sat up with a start, groaning when his wounds protested. A sliver of light from the opening fell across his face and he could see the outline of Éponine's slender shape peering into the dark room, eyes squinted as they adjusted to the lack of light. "Did I wake you?" she whispered, still standing in the doorway, a look of concern and uncertainty on her pretty face.

"No I was just thinking," he murmured back. "To what do I owe the visit? It seems to me you have been avoiding coming in here."

"It's hard," she admitted, slipping into the room and shutting the door behind her.

"What is?" he asked, his eyebrows drawn together.

"You used to look at me with such love and anticipation as if you hadn't seen me in ages." She stared at the floor, her cheeks flushed. "Now there's nothing in your eyes but doubt when I'm near you."

"I apologize that this has hurt your feelings. Please, sit." He gestured to the armchair at his bedside where Éponine had lived for the three days he was unconscious. He waited for her to drift over and sit herself down before he continued. "Joly said you had also been injured. I hope you are well."

The formality with which he spoke to her was like having salt poured in her wound. "I'm doing quite well, thanks. The bullet merely grazed my side."

"Ah, lucky I suppose." They sat in uncomfortable silence for several long minutes. Neither of them knew what to say to the other.

"Do you even want your memory back?" Éponine finally blurted out.

"What do you mean? That's a rather absurd question."

"Is it though? I know you're looking at me right now and wondering how the hell you could have fallen in love with a street rat like me. You would probably rather spare yourself the memory of us and forget about the friends you lost at the barricade while you're at it. Kind of a win-win isn't it? You win the revolution, but you don't have to remember the horror of it. You can move on with your life without that haunting you and without me dragging you down."

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" Enjolras boomed. The volume and malice of his voice forced Éponine to lean back in her chair. "You think I've gotten off scotch free? That the loss of my friends doesn't haunt me? I cannot begin to tell you how wrong you are. Not a single night has gone by without being thrown into dreadful nightmares. My mind has drummed up all sorts of horrific death scenes that play out in my head every time I close my eyes. I can't escape reality, so yes, I would much rather remember it." He stared at her intensely for several moments while his breathing slowed. Éponine felt ashamed for her words and wanted to avoid his gaze, but she couldn't peal her eyes away from his. The familiar spark of warmth was felt by both of them and Enjolras closed his eyes suddenly, breaking the trance. He took a deep breath before opening his eyes and speaking again, "I am deeply truly sorry that I have no memory of you because this is only the second conversation that I actually remember having with you and I can already tell that you are far from typical."

She smiled slightly at his words. Perhaps even if Enjolras never remembers their past, he can fall in love with her all over again. "I shouldn't have said that," Éponine murmured after a moment, shamefaced at the harsh assumption she made of him. "I'm just frustrated and I have no clue how to react to this situation because we feel like strangers. Believe me, we were not strangers last week."

Enjolras chuckled, surprisingly lighthearted. He resembled the youthful, passionate man who rolled around with Éponine in that very bed just weeks before. "You're frustrated? I try and try to remember, but an entire chunk of my life has simply been erased. I understand that you're hurt, but please be patient with me Éponine and I'll do everything I can to come back to you." She smiled, finally feeling a small amount of relief. Perhaps the Enjolras she knew wasn't lost forever after all. It seemed that the man she loved was still there, just hiding, but Éponine was determined to coax him out. She couldn't let the greatest thing that had ever happened to her just slip between her fingers; she was going to fight for her happiness.

Though the idea seemed foreign to him and he couldn't be sure what prompted him to do it, he found himself reaching out a shaky hand to her. She eyed it hesitantly for a brief second before grasping it firmly with her own. Enjolras enjoyed the feeling of her small hand in his and this surprised him. His body reacted to her physically despite his mind's uncertainty and a slight smile pulled up the corners of his mouth. It seemed that Éponine might be the key to unlocking his lost memories. He felt found.

**A/N: Aha! A little progress has been made! Stay tuned and please review!**


	25. Family

**A/N: I'm about to drop a bomb on you -this is your warning. Also, someone asked if I was on tumblr, so I thought I'd tell you all that my url is paradise-bythe-dashboardlight and my Aaron/Les mis blog is youcantcallmeatwat. So follow me if you'd like!**

Trying to recall memories that had been lost was like wading through murky water, looking for something that had been dropped. Enjolras searched the depths of his brain, but came up empty again and again. Éponine began spending more time at his side, telling him stories about their life together and about the rebellion in hopes that something would trigger his memory and it would all come back to him. Occasionally, Éponine would lean in and her scent caused images to quickly flash through his brain –kissing her, laughing with her, debating with her. But then they would disappear just as suddenly as they came. None of them were ever complete memories either, just spurts of recollection followed by more murky water.

Éponine could always tell when this happened because Enjolras' eyes would suddenly gloss over and often a small reminiscent smile crept over his face. He didn't often share what they were about, however, though her inquiries often caused his cheeks to redden. It was odd for him to experience these flashes with his and Éponine's relationship disjointed as it now was. He felt as though he was somehow violating her when the sensual curve of her hip flashed through his mind of her lying naked in bed with him. Perhaps he felt guilty seeing her this way because he wasn't at that place in their relationship as he had been before hitting his head. Much to his embarrassment and dismay, these bursts of memory always made his face and neck flush and grow hot. The only upside to it was the curiously hopeful smile that tugged at Éponine's full lips.

She was pleased with their interaction; she felt that he was making progress and was hopeful that he would reclaim everything he had lost. It was just over two weeks since he had been shot and he was still in a great deal of pain and wasn't even close to regaining enough strength to get out of bed. Joly was optimistic about his recovery though, waving away all of Enjolras' cynicism and groans when told he needed to rest more to allow his body to heal. Enjolras didn't do well being cooped up and unable to provide for himself. Though he was grateful for all the aid and support provided by the amis, he resented having to be taken care of and often felt the need to remind his friends that he wasn't an invalid –this of course wasn't true. He was very much a convalescent, but too proud to admit to requiring constant care. They ignored his frustrated comments for the most part and treated their patient with good-natured humor. The mood in the apartment was starting to look up.

However, things were not always easy. One afternoon, Éponine was speaking to Enjolras with great success; he was more engaged than ever. They were having a lively discussion and she reached out and touched him lovingly like she would have done before, but instead of pulling her in for a kiss, as he would have done, he snapped at her and began coldly telling her that she was a stranger to him and that he didn't appreciate being touched that way. The incident caused her to burst into tears and run out of the room. Joly reassured her that mood swings were very common with head injuries and that she needed to be patient and try not to be affectionate towards him while he was still relearning who she was. It was difficult not to act lovingly towards him though. She missed him terribly even though she spoke to him everyday for most of the day -he wasn't fully there all the time and he often seemed lost in the depths of his own brain. Their relationship had taken on an entirely different dynamic –one that was slightly uncomfortable and on-edge one. Enjolras even appeared to be suspicious of her at times and on two separate occasions she had over heard him asking Combeferre to verify her story. Each time felt like a setback, but she was far from giving up on him.

Early one morning, Éponine woke up to a sick feeling in her stomach. She flung herself out of bed with a hand clamped over her mouth and ran to the bathroom, making it just in time to empty the contents of her stomach with heaving convulsions. When she was finished, she sat back on the floor and wiped the beads of sweat that had formed on her forehead with the back of her hand. She took several deep breaths to settle herself before hauling her tired body off the floor to rinse her mouth out. Éponine had recently become suspicious that something was amiss and this episode of vomiting made her even more nervous. She needed a confirmation; she needed to speak with Joly.

Éponine was in Enjolras' room as per usual later the next day when Joly poked his head in the door. Expecting he was there to check on Enjolras, she stood up to give him room, but instead of coming to the bedside Joly said, "May I speak to you for a moment Éponine?" with an uneasy tone to his voice and he seemed to be avoiding looking at Enjolras.

"Certainly," she replied slowly, feeling suddenly nervous about the news she was certain she was about to get. With a lump in her throat she said "I'll be right back," to Enjolras without turning to look at him. She knew that if she did he would see the odd combination of panic and joy in her expression.

She followed Joly out of the room, shutting the door behind them. They went to the study where they could speak privately without fear of being overheard by one of the several men who had taken over the apartment. It was a small room containing stacks and stacks of books of every genre one could imagine. It was an impressive collection that Éponine had slowly begun to work her way through with Enjolras' aid and guidance. She remembered their last reading lesson with fondness and wondered if there would be more in the future. Her eyes scanned the varied spines of the books to avoid looking directly at Joly. She already knew what he was about to tell her and though she was incredibly joyous, the timing was the absolute worst.

"I have reviewed the symptoms you told me of yesterday and am fairly certain that you came to the correct conclusion," Joly said after a heavy silence. He sighed worriedly and the words were finally said aloud, "Éponine, you are pregnant."

Feeling the tears spill over, she covered her face with her hands. How many times had she thought about having Enjolras' beautiful children and now it was happening, but she wasn't crying out of happiness. The thought of bringing his child into the world when he still had no recollection of their entire relationship -or even of who she was- was beyond terrifying. Telling him that she was carrying his child would probably ruin all the progress they had made. Sure, it may make it all real to him, but having children was not something Enjolras had ever planned on before meeting Éponine. He loved them, and firmly believed in educating the new generation, but having his own would mean having to be with a woman romantically and that idea certainly never appealed him. It would completely freak him out.

"What am I going to do?" she whispered, her hands still covering her face.

"You have to tell him," Joly said confidently.

Éponine uncovered her face to look at him incredulously. "Tell him? He was already close to death, this news will push him over the edge!"

"I think that's a tad dramatic," he replied still unsensibly calm.

She grunted her frustration and raked her fingers through her hair. "This is Enjolras we are talking about. Sure, the man he was with me would have been overjoyed, but think back to before him and I met. Could you imagine _that_ man ever fathering children? And with a woman he doesn't remember! Joly, you only said yesterday that his heart was growing stronger again, this news will likely stop it all together."

A look over concern overcame his face and his lips pursed with thought. She could tell he was reconsidering his patient's health. "Well he either has to remember you or fall in love with you all over again. And quick –you'll be showing in a couple months."

Éponine placed her hands lovingly over her flat stomach and mentally sent her love to her growing baby. "We can do that," she murmured, feeling a newfound sense of drive and responsibility to the person she was creating.

Joly's eyebrows raised quizzically. "We?" he asked.

Her eyes felt her abdomen to meet his. "Myself, Enjolras, and our baby. We will be a family, I know it."

**A/N: AHHHHH did you see that coming? Let me know what you think!**


	26. Animals in Captivity

**A/N: Thank you all for following/favouriting/reviewing! It means a lot to me that people are invested in this story!**

"I just don't know what to do Grantaire," Éponine sighed heavily, her head dejectedly rested in her hands. The two were alone in the living room while the other amis were spending time with Enjolras trying to trigger his memory with any information they could provide him. The men had all begun to regain their former lives to some degree and though they still had places of their own to live, they seemed reluctant to leave Enjolras' apartment. Éponine knew it was because they wanted to be there for their healing leader, but she also correctly assumed that they were afraid to be alone at night when the horrible memories got the best of all of them. It helped sleeping next to your other surviving comrades who understand exactly the mental and emotional scarring you've suffered. These men weren't just friends, they were brothers. Many of their families had turned their backs on them due to their involvement in the rebellion and they relied on each other now more than ever before.

It was rather late at night a week after Joly confirmed Éponine's pregnancy and she still hadn't come any closer to making a decision about how to tell Enjolras that she was carrying his child. His progress seemed to be slowing; there were no signs of him remembering anything new, even just glimpses, for several days now. Each day that passed only made Éponine feel more desolate. She couldn't raise a child on her own; she lacked the resources and the teachings of a proper motherly role model. She would be scared enough even with Enjolras aware and fully on board.

"You need to try to relax 'Ponine," Grantaire murmured, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "All this stress isn't good for you."

"What I need is a miracle," she muttered, rubbing her tired eyes. It's been getting increasingly more difficult to sleep without Enjolras' strong arms around her, protecting her, and she couldn't close her eyes without being plagued by nightmares. She knew he was experiencing the same dreadful images because he was always tangled in the bed sheets by morning after a night of thrashing around. As embarrassing as it was to admit, she often stayed up and watched him when she was unable to find sleep. He would toss and turn restlessly, then grunt when his healing injuries protested. On a couple occasions, he had reopened several stitches during his night terrors.

"Maybe that is exactly what you will get," Grantaire whispered.

Éponine finally lifted her head to look up at him quizzically. "When did you become such an optimist?" she questioned.

"When we went through hell and somehow made it out the other side," he replied solemnly. "Plus, being sober has apparently improved my mood." A small smile appeared on his face with that added comment. Not a drop of alcohol had touched his lips since his blackout on the barricade. At first he was somewhat miserable to be around, but it turned out that all the men enjoyed Grantaire's presence much more now that he spoke without slurring and didn't reek of booze. His struggle not to chug a bottle of whiskey to drown out the shame he felt for missing nearly the entire battle was sometimes tangible and he had developed a nervous habit of gnawing on his fingernails during particularly stressful times. Joly was concerned he would develop an infection because his fingers were red and peeling during the days Enjolras was unconscious. He tried to convince Grantaire to quit, but Éponine assured him that he needed some sort of fixation and at least this one was healthier than living perpetually drunk. Whatever helped him keep the demons at bay.

Éponine returned his smile before slowly rising to her feet, her hands automatically touching her stomach tenderly even though she still wasn't noticeably showing. Joly estimated that she was only about six weeks along. "Well I think it suits you," she told him earnestly. "And thanks."

"Of course," he said simply.

She shuffled down the hall to the bedroom and swung the door wide open. "It's late," she informed the men, trying to subtly tell them to leave, but not at all succeeding. They continued talking over top of one another and Éponine cleared her throat loudly, finally gaining their attention.

"Aw c'mon," Courfeyrac groaned dramatically, "I was just about to tell Enjolras about walking in on the two of you at the café." He chuckled as both Enjolras and Éponine cheeks flushed red. It was nice to see Courfeyrac smiling again. He had taken Gavroche's death extremely hard. Even Éponine 's immense sorrow for the loss of her little brother didn't quite match up to Courfeyrac's. She took comfort knowing that he was safe now and not going hungry or shivering in an alleyway, plus she knew how proud the young boy had been to help the men at the barricade.

"Another time," she said a little too harshly. She knew they meant well, but she was hardly in a joking mood.

"Fine, mother," he mumbled jokingly. The guys shuffled out the door and Éponine shut it behind them. She drifted over to the chair next the Enjolras' bed and dropped heavily onto the cushion.

"Has anything come back to you?" she asked him hopefully.

"Not really," he responded vaguely. There were deep purple circles under his eyes and his complexion hadn't yet regained its proper colour. The man that formerly stood so tall and commanding still had not been able to even get out of bed. It was wrong, like a caged animal that yearned to be free, Enjolras was not meant to be in captivity. Come to think of it, all the men had begun to act like animals in captivity. They seemed perpetually on edge and unable to control their restless minds, but they felt trapped. They had no room to stretch their legs or hardly even their thoughts in the small apartment, but they seemed to be afraid of the outside.

Éponine could feel hot tears begin to stream down her cheeks, but she made no effort to stop them. She was beyond exhausted and the weight of everything that was going on in her life was pressing ominously on her shoulders. Normally she would have gone to Enjolras to comfort her and to put her worries at ease. He somehow had the ability to get her out of her own head and enjoy each moment, but she knew he couldn't do that for her now. For years she relied only on herself, but in only a few months she had transferred so much trust onto him that she now had to relearn how to cope without him even though he was sitting right in front of her.

"I'm sorry," she blubbered, slumping over in her seat. Though she had done it several times before, she felt embarrassed to be crying in front of him, maybe because she knew how uncomfortable he felt witnessing people's emotions.

"Why are you crying?" Enjolras asked in bewilderment. His face showed a strange mix of concern and absolute horror at her immense display of emotion.

"I need you back," she whispered, glancing up to meet his gaze.

He stared at her for a moment, not knowing how to comfort her. "I need you not to give up on me," he told her at last. It donned on him just how much he truly meant his words. All the time she spent talking to him and caring for him over the last few weeks forced him to realize why he had apparently fallen for her in the first place. She was a young woman of incredible character and strength. She had wit and cunning and was as charming as could be. Éponine was not your average girl and that was what made her so appealing to him. He hadn't admitted it to anyone, but he continued to have flashes of memory involving her that filled him with desire. It felt so fresh as if he was experiencing it for the first time, though from the glimpses he saw, he knew it wasn't. He felt he was beginning to understand their relationship despite still not remembering the majority of it.

"I could never," she replied solemnly. For only the second time since the barricade, Enjolras reached out a tentative hand to grasp Éponine's. The action was starting to feel natural; it felt familiar and comfortable to have her thin fingers woven between his. They both smiled genuinely at each other and Éponine was once again filled with hope that maybe Grantaire was right after all –maybe she would get her miracle.

**A/N: Please review! And for those who missed it because I messed up posting it the first time, my tumblr is paradise-bythe-dashboardlight and my aaron/les mis blog is youcantcallmeatwat. So follow if you'd like!**


	27. Chaotic Thoughts

**A/N: I'm glad you guys liked the Éponine/Grantaire stuff in the last chapter. They're totally my brotp haha**

_Éponine looked up at him affectionately. "I love you," she murmured looking nearly overcome with exhaustion. Her shirt was soaked through with blood from the wound she had incurred and her complexion was ghostly, but somehow she was still radiant with life._

"_Marry me," Enjolras could hear himself say to her. "Marry me?" he repeated. An astonished look crossed her pallid face and she fretted aloud about being an embarrassment to his wealthy family, but he brushed off her concerns. "So my proposal stands," he concluded looking down at her expectantly._

_Her eyes welled with tears and excited, "yes" escaped her lips twice in a row before she began planting kisses excitedly on his face. His heart felt swollen with pure undulating joy. _

_The happiness was abruptly cut short. He was swept up in battle, taking out soldiers with his gun as they wheeled in canons. "Second canons, FIRE!" he shouted and his men all gripped their triggers. Several guardsmen dropped to the street, but more kept coming from around the corner and the canons were fired in their direction. The lifeless bodies of several men flew from their perches on the barricade and more anger welled within Enjolras. As the guards advanced they began climbing the mound of furniture and the fight became more hand-to-hand, beating off men with whatever was available to him._

* * *

Éponine was woken abruptly by muffled shouts. She pulled herself upright, only just realizing that she had fallen asleep in the chair at Enjolras' bedside. Her back ached from the cramped position she had assumed during the night and it cracked as she straightened it. Enjolras was thrashing wildly in bed, his face buried in the pillow so that it stifled the pained noises escaping from his mouth. He looked so distraught in his restless sleep instead of peaceful and serene and young like he used to when Éponine woke up before him and admired the smooth plains of his face, the usual tense lines relaxed away with deep slumber.

Her body yearned to comfort him and in her exhaustion and desperation for him to calm down and not cause any further harm to himself, she gave in. Rising slowly from the chair, careful not to make any noise, she tiptoed to her side of the bed and gently pulled back the covers. She slipped underneath and silently tugged the blankets up to her chest. She hesitated, worrying that he might wake up and yell at her for climbing into bed with him. It took several agonizing minutes of internal debate before her need to comfort Enjolras won out over her fear of him becoming angry. Hesitantly, she reached out a hand and tenderly stroked his cheek. His body seemed to relax under her soothing touch and his face, scrunched up in pain, smoothed to a more tranquil expression. Gradually she shifted her entire body until she was just barely touching him. Seeming to somehow sense her presence, his arms instinctively encircled her causing Éponine's heart to flutter anxiously. She smiled and rested her head against his chest before quickly drifting into a dreamless slumber.

* * *

Enjolras' eyes fluttered open and he blinked several times against the light that came streaming in through a gap in the curtains. He felt better rested than he has in weeks and he was about to stretch out his arms when he noticed the slim figure lying within them. Éponine's breathing was deep and even, her face looked young and worry free with sleep. Her long brown hair was thrown wildly around her like a shield. After several minutes of studying her face, Enjolras grew uncomfortable with their close proximity. As much as he wished not to wake her, it wasn't like he could crawl out of bed and leave her undisturbed. He was about to snake his arm out from underneath her when the dream he'd had came rushing back to him. He couldn't be sure if it was a fictitious rendering of his imagination or an actual memory, but he was sure of how it made him feel. The indescribable joy that filled his heart when Éponine uttered the word 'yes' made things terrifyingly real for him. He didn't know how to be in a romantic relationship. Did him and Éponine have their own little couple rituals or agreements? Were they affectionate in public? Or worse, did they write each other love notes or poetry? Enjolras' heart raced uneasily as these thoughts filled his head. He suddenly felt too hot and nervous to lay still. Pulling himself into a seated position as best he could, he longed to leave the apartment just to roam the streets of Paris and clear his mind. He'd barely had any alone time while awake and he was desperate to figure out his thoughts without an audience weighing in.

The shift of weight on the mattress woke Éponine from her slumber. She quickly realized that Enjolras was not only awake, but he was staring down at her with an unfathomable expression on his face. She returned his gaze guiltily; she'd been caught. Wondering why he didn't immediately wake her and throw her out upon finding her in his bed, she sat up and waited for him to get angry with her, but he just stared with a gaze so intense Éponine averted her eyes and shrunk down beneath the weight of it.

"I remembered," he said at last, his tone uncertain. Éponine looked up at him to see his cheeks slightly flushed.

"What did you remember?" she asked him cautiously. He seemed very uneasy.

Looking flustered and embarrassed he glanced away from her, as it was now her turn to stare him down. "Proposing," he stated.

She drew in a slow breath. "And?"

"It doesn't quite seem real." They sat there silently for several minutes before he added, "I remember fighting too… And seeing men fall. Their deaths are on my hands."

"That's not true, Enjolras," Éponine immediately protested.

"It is," he insisted.

"No, they chose to fight because they believed in you and in your cause. They knew the risk they were taking and they did not lose their lives for nothing."

"What would you know?" Enjolras felt an unexplained anger towards her growing inside of him. "Maybe if you had not been a distraction to me at the barricade they would have survived!"

Éponine gasped and leaned away from his as if he had just slapped her across the face. She began yelling back her defense, "I'm part of the reason that so many of the wounded _did_ survive! I was helping Joly in the café!"

"Well you weren't shot it the café, now were you?" he sneered, "No one has told me exactly how _that_ happened." He gestured to the jagged, healing scar across the side of her abdomen; this was the first time he had seen it since the barricade and only because Éponine was wearing a man's shirt that had ridden up during sleep, unbeknownst to her. She stared down at her wound for a moment, contemplating his words in silence.

All of the fire to defend herself against his harsh accusations quickly died. "I saved Marius' life," he whispered, still not looking at him.

"Then where is Marius now?" Enjolras asked, his voice equally soft.

"We don't know," she sighed, rubbing a hand across her tired eyes, "His body was not accounted for, but no one saw him walk away from the barricade either. He was still there when Courfeyrac and I left to take you home."

"What awfully stupid action did Pontmercy do for his life to require saving by you?"

"He was climbing the barricade with a keg of gun powder and a lit torch and-"

Enjolras cut her off abruptly, "What on Earth was he thinking?"

She ignored him, looking exasperated, and continued where she had left off. "He didn't look up to see that one of the guards had his gun pointed directly at him. So I grabbed the barrel of the gun as the shot was fired. No one even saw; Marius did not even notice. I fell to the base of the barricade, but he continued climbing to the top. It was my understanding that he threatened to blow up the entire blockade in order to get the National Guard to retreat for the night." Enjolras just watched her for a moment, seeming unsure of how to respond so Éponine added, "It worked too. They fell back."

It turns out that when Enjolras did not respond it was because images were rapidly flashing through his mind. He saw Éponine slumped over and clutching her bloodstained shirt. He felt terrified and helpless and he thought this would be the end of their life together. _Oh_, the relief that washed over him when he was certain she would make it through. Every emotion he had every felt for her –both positive and negative- came bursting to the surface like swimmers coming up for air.

"I thought I was going to lose you," he murmured, pausing briefly to consider his words before continuing, "But I wasn't. And I never wanted to. So I asked for your hand in marriage."

It sounded like he was speaking to himself now rather than Éponine, but she responded anyways. "And I said yes. I would always say yes." He looked down at her, trying to make sense of everything going on in his chaotic mind.

She sat there with him for several more minutes before climbing out of bed and heading for the exit. She opened the door to leave, but stopped. "If there's anything else you need to know…" she murmured, leaving her statement open ended and left, shutting the door behind her to leave Enjolras alone with his thoughts. She needed to be alone with hers too. The other men had heard their yelling through the door and she just had to escape their looks of concern for a while. She went to the bathroom and tugged on one of her dresses while trying to figure out where to go, but she didn't care; she didn't have a specific place in mind so she just left the apartment, throwing an "I'll be back," over her shoulder as she went.

Let it be clear that Éponine was not trying to run away from her problems. Just imagine being cooped up with a group of rowdy and emotionally devastated men and the man you love who doesn't remember you. It was too much for anyone to take, but Éponine was handling it. Seeing the peasants on the streets and the grimy places she used to rest her head at night reminded her just how strong she really was. If she was going to get through this and potentially raise her baby without the help of it's father, she would need to draw on that strength that was firmly embedded within her. She may not have resources, but she could find them. It wasn't as if all the amis would leave her high and dry on the streets caring for their friend's child. Even if they did, she knew how to be on her own and she was tired of wallowing in self-pity –it wasn't in her character.

**A/N: I don't know about you, but I'm quite fond of this chapter. Please review!**


	28. Reasons to Live

**A/N: I'm even more fond of this chapter than the last one so I hope you guys are too! Some big things are about to happen.**

Éponine returned home less than two hours later to what appeared to be an empty apartment. She stood in the living room confused for a moment when a sudden crash in the bedroom caught her attention. She rushed down the hall, hearing Enjolras' voice muttering underneath his breath as she neared the door. She twisted the knob and flung it open without thinking to knock.

"Oh," she gasped upon entry. Enjolras stood in his undergarments with his back to her, his hand gripping the window frame so tightly to support his weak body that his knuckles were turning white. "Where is everyone? What are you doing out of bed?" His knees looked like they were about to buckle after weeks without use. She rushed to his side, but he held out a hand for her to stop.

"You should have knocked," he muttered, looking over his shoulder at her.

"I'm sorry, I just heard a bang. Did you fall? Are you alright?" She looked him up and down with concern.

"I'm fine. I just need to regain my strength."

She nodded her understanding, but he did not see it with his back still facing her. "Where are the others?"

"They received word from Marius and left to meet him. I assured them I would be fine on my own for a couple of hours."

"Marius is alive? That's excellent!" A huge weight felt lifted from her chest. Though she had more than enough of her own problems to deal with, she had been worried about Marius and wondered if he had made it out alive to reunite with Cosette.

He nodded slowly. "It's a huge relief. From what little information the letter gave away, I'd say life is treating him quite splendidly."

"I'm so glad," she said genuinely, smiling to herself. Enjolras shifted his weight uncomfortably, still without looking her way and her smile quickly disappeared, a look of concern replacing it. "What's the matter?"

He sighed heavily and straightened up, loosening his grip on the window ledge and turning his body so that she could see him square on. Éponine's jaw fell open at the sight of his bare chest and she brought her hand to her mouth in an attempt to disguise her shock and horror. "I didn't want you to see," he murmured, looking sad and ashamed. She counted the eight distinct scars across his torso, including one on his left bicep that were surrounded by healing, discoloured skin. Without thinking, she closed the gap between them and placed her hands on his chest. Her fingers lightly traced the jagged lines in his flesh, her eyes wide in amazement. He shouldn't have survived this.

"It's a miracle," she whispered to herself.

"I should have died," Enjolras muttered harshly, but he didn't move away from her touch. "What kind of leader allows his men to be killed while he is carried away to safety?"

"You didn't have a choice," Éponine said sharply. "I wasn't about to let you die on me."

"What do you even need me around for?"

She looked down at where her baby bump would soon be too noticeable to hide. "More than you know," she whispered.

"I don't deserve to come out of this bloody battle with a beautiful woman in love with me and no memory of the carnage. If I had to survive, I should be forced to face the destruction of life I caused alone and miserable."

Her heart fluttered briefly at his assessment of her, but it quickly faded to anger. "Is that what you're doing? You're going to punish yourself for surviving?" she gawked at him. "Oh what a _grand_ _martyr_ you are, having to carry the heavy burden of the barricade on your back. What a _noble_ _man_ to force himself to live with what he has done. Praise thee," Éponine grumbled sarcastically.

Enjolras rolled his eyes at her dramatics. "You don't understand," he muttered. "My thoughts might have changed since meeting you, but my memory is of expecting to perish on the barricade –to die the leader of the rebellion that changed France. Now here I am alive and nothing makes sense. Somehow I've come out of it with even more to be grateful for and it only adds to my guilt."

"I lost friends too –I lost my _brother_," she whispered, tears filling her eyes. "You think I don't feel guilty for surviving when he didn't? He was a child! But I can't dwell on it because I have things to live for and so do you."

They stood in silence for several long moments. Éponine's hands were still rested on Enjolras' torn flesh. Where it used to be smooth and creamy it now resembled Éponine's with its wear and tear from a life on the streets and her father's abuse. The marble man finally had a flaw, but the scars themselves weren't ugly -they just told an ugly story. Besides, it didn't matter to her; he was still the most beautiful person she had ever laid eyes on. "I'm sorry," he murmured at last.

She rested her head against his chest for a moment. "Me too."

Enjolras took a step back and Éponine let her arms fall to her sides. "May I be alone to dress?"

"I've seen you much more indecently," she replied, a playful smile pulling up the corners of her mouth. The tension between them immediately lightened, neither was in the mood to hold up an argument.

His cheeks flushed, but he smirked as some of the flashes of him and Éponine's intimate relationship came back to him again. He had never really had sexual thoughts for any woman before, but he couldn't deny the lust these memories filled him with. For a moment he considered pulling Éponine back against his chest and kissing her –creating new memories so to speak- but he quickly thought better of it. Oddly, part of him feared she would reject his advances. He allowed her to stay in the room though and help him dress. His body ached with every movement and threatened to give out at any moment. By the time he did up the last button on his shirt he was exhausted.

"You really didn't need to get out of bed," Éponine murmured, looking up at him with genuine concern. "No one expects you to just get up and go after only a few weeks of rest. Your body still needs to heal."

"I couldn't sit in bed a minute longer without completely losing my mind. Can I at least get a change of scenery and sit in the study instead?" his tone was light and joking, but his desperation to be free of his bed was obvious.

"Of course," she replied with a smile, taking him by the arm and slowly guiding him down the hall.

He slumped into the leather chair seated behind the large wooden desk and tried to quiet his breathing. It was incredibly embarrassing to him that he was winded after only walking such a short distance and at an exceptionally slow pace as well. He knew his body had been out of use for weeks and that it made sense for him to be fatigued after such minimal effort, but if he was being honest with himself, when he decided to get out of bed this morning part of him thought he would be able to leap right out of bed and march around confidently the way he had before –clearly this was not the case and he was, in fact, subject to human frailty.

"Would you like me to bring you anything?" Éponine asked once he was settled, a large book in his hands.

"No, I'm well thanks," he said shortly. A frown tugged down Éponine's face, but Enjolras already had his eyes buried in the pages. He was reverting back to the politeness and formality with which he spoke to strangers. Trying to follow his rapidly changing emotions and thoughts was near impossible. One minute he was almost like the man she remembered –the one who loved her-, the next he treated her like a mere acquaintance, and then he would be suddenly furious with her with little provocation. Patience was not one of Éponine's many virtues, but she knew he needed her understanding and support more than her anger and resentment. It wasn't his fault after all. She turned to leave him alone, but just as she was about to close the door behind her, she heard a small, "Éponine?"

She spun back around to see Enjolras looking at her seriously. He looked so sad and weak that it broke her heart to see him that way. "Yes?"

"You said before that we both have things to live for. What were you referring to?"

She swallowed hard and considered lying, but decided against it. She couldn't hide it forever and he should hear it from her. "Our baby," she said, her voice just above a whisper.

Enjolras' mouth fell open in shock. "Baby?" he repeated.

**A/N: Whoa! Well Enjolras knows now, how do you think he's going to take it? Let me know! Review!**


	29. Mood Swings

**A/N: WOW! This story has over 100 reviews! Thank you all so much! I think that was the most reviews I've ever gotten for a single chapter. Warning: there's some strong language in this chapter.**

"I think she broke him," Courfeyrac muttered.

"He's just in shock," Combeferre replied. "He just found out he's going to be a father on top of all the other information he has had to take in recently. He's overwhelmed. He'll snap out of it."

"He's been staring at the wall for four hours!" Courfeyrac exclaimed incredulously. "I think his brain has just given up."

"Don't say that," Grantaire scolded him from his seat next to Éponine on the couch. He had his arm around her and she had her head buried against his chest. After she repeatedly confirmed to Enjolras that she had, in fact, said that they were having a baby, he just seemed to shut down. He retreated to the bedroom again and told her he needed time to think so she left him alone, sitting anxiously on the couch until the amis returned about an hour later. She dissolved into a blubbering mess as she told them all what happened. They were proud of her for telling him, but knew that he wasn't taking it so well. For the past several hours, they had all tried talking to him, but he gave little more than monosyllabic answers and didn't take his eyes off their spot on the wall. His expression was calculating, but neutral of any real emotion. Éponine feared that he would completely shut her out even after all the progress they had made together.

"Éponine?" Enjolras suddenly called to her. She jumped from the couch in surprise, wrenching herself from Grantaire's comforting grasp, and traipsed down the hall. She entered the room feeling cautiously excited and took the seat next to the bed. "How far along are you?" he asked, at last moving his eyes to meet hers.

"Almost seven weeks now I think," she replied.

"I see," he said nodding slowly, "I hope the stress of this situation hasn't been harmful to your pregnancy. I apologize for my initial reaction, it just came as quite a shock to me."

"I can imagine. It was surprise enough for me and I fondly remember the conception," she murmured suggestively, earning a small crooked smile from Enjolras.

"I'm having a few of those memories myself," he said barely above a whisper.

"Really?" she asked eagerly, leaning towards him.

"Yes. It started out as flashes, but now I can start to piece them together into full memories."

"What exactly do you remember?"

"You," he murmured. His eyes began to wander and he seemed lost for words, "_all _of you."

Éponine felt her cheeks redden as her returned his gaze to her. "Well I'm glad," she replied.

"As am I," he said, his voice husky and filled with emotion. She hadn't seen him like this in over a month now, but he was now looking at her in such a way that made her feel valuable and desired. They watched each other in intense silence for several minutes, when something abruptly changed in Enjolras' expression. His eyes went cold and he turned tersely away from her.

"What is it?" she asked, confused by the rapid shift in his demeanor.

"I just can't believe I was so irresponsible," he muttered.

"_Excuse me_?" she yelped, feeling hurt by his words.

"I had never planned to have a sexual relationship let alone children. It was never my desire to be a father and yet somehow I've gotten myself trapped in this position."

"Trapped?" she nearly yelled at him, rising angrily from her chair. He looked up at her, seeming confused by her tone.

"Yes, I am rather stuck if you're having my child, now aren't I?"

"You bastard," she sputtered, her fists clenching in frustration.

"That is exactly what our illegitimate child will be."

She couldn't take it anymore, without fully being aware of it her hand swung out and made contact with the side of his face with a satisfying smack. Enjolras recoiled in confusion. "What the hell was that for?"

"You just called our baby a bastard! He or she wouldn't be illegitimate if we married like we had intended –like _you_ had wanted! You seemed like the man I loved for a moment there, but then you just disappeared into yourself again. I can't handle your mood swings!"

"I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, but this is huge news!"

"You don't think I know that?"

"It's hard to be excited for something that I didn't want to happen," Enjolras sighed, shaking his head at her patronizingly.

"Fuck you." She spun around and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

How could he go from being playful and coy to an insensitive asshole in mere seconds? It infuriated Éponine that she allowed herself to be hopeful as she sat there listening to him tell her how he was remembering their relationship and how he seemed like his old self. He wasn't magically fixed and things weren't just suddenly going to go her way because she wanted them to. The serious head trauma that Enjolras had suffered could leave him permanently with this fast changing personality that she couldn't keep up with. He might never be the same man he was before even if his full memory returns to him.

Enjolras could hear Éponine grumbling her explanation of what had just happened to all the men in the apartment, but he just sat their feeling dumbfounded. They were connecting and he just went off on her out of nowhere. How could he say such cruel things to her about the child she was carrying? He acted as if he couldn't give a damn what happened to her or the baby, when in reality that couldn't be farther from the truth. The more he remembered about his relationship with Éponine, the more desperate he was to get it back, but it seemed that every time he felt himself getting closer to her, a switch flipped in his brain and he became and insufferable ass. He knew that she wouldn't continue to put up with his obnoxious behavior, especially with the interests of her unborn child in mind, but he didn't know how to apologize for what he had just said. How do you tell a woman you're sorry when your list of offences is too long to even remember?

Enjolras huffed a sigh and rubbed his temples, his eyelids squeezed shut. "I'm a terrible person," he muttered to himself.

"I'd have to agree," Grantaire's voice caused him to snap his head up. He was standing in the doorway, looking unhappy with Enjolras.

"I'm also an idiot, Grantaire."

"I could have told you that too," he muttered. Enjolras dropped his head, feeling ashamed. "Look," he said with a sigh, "she knows the moodiness and the insane changes in personality aren't your fault, but let me tell you, I have never seen her so furious. You have to try to get a grip, you have to figure out how to stop that transition from the man she loves into an insensitive monster or the best thing that has ever happened to you is going to walk away and take your child with her."

"I never knew you as one to give advice."

"I gave advice before, you just never bothered to listen. But this advice is coming without the old slur of drunkenness so perhaps you should take it seriously this time."

"I'm trying. I don't want to treat her this way, I can see how much it hurts her, but in the moment I can't seem to stop myself." Enjolras raked his fingers through his messy golden curls in frustration.

"Well you better learn to bite your tongue then," he snapped.

"Can you please ask her to come back in here?" Enjolras asked, looking desperate.

"I think you should give her time to cool off. With the way she's feeling now, she might leave you with even more scars," he warned.

"Grantaire, please?" Enjolras pleaded, looking into Grantaire's eyes, nearly hidden under thick black curls.

"Fine, but I warned you."

He spun and left the room to retrieve Éponine. Enjolras tried to mentally rehearse what he needed to say, but didn't even know where to begin. She appeared in the doorway where she remained, unwilling to move any closer to him. She eyed him disdainfully and he felt even worse under her scrutiny. He suddenly couldn't stand the space between them. He pulled himself willfully out of bed.

"Enjolras don't get up-" she started, but he was already standing, his breathing heavy and irregular.

"I don't even know how to begin apologizing," he murmured, looking her directly in the eye. He noticed that her eyes were red and puffy from crying and it only added to feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach. How could he do this to the woman he loved? _Loved? _Enjolras had never thought those words before –at least not since hitting his head. Did he really love Éponine? _Impossible, _he thought to himself, he merely felt ashamed at his cruel word choice. A woman in her condition didn't deserve to be spoken to in such a way, but that didn't mean he was in love with the street girl.

"It's not your fault," she grumbled reluctantly. She wanted to yell and blame him, but she found herself unable to do so with the way he was looking at her now. The love that she had noticed in his eyes before had returned, beating out the darkness that briefly overcame them.

"It is entirely my fault," Enjolras disputed. "I know you must want to yell and hit me and I can absolutely understand that, but you must know that I didn't mean a single word of it. I don't know what comes over me. Yes, I'm overwhelmed by this news to say the least, but I'm in it with you."

Tears silently spilled down Éponine's cheeks, but she kept her distance from him. "Thank you," she whispered. Her hands moved to her stomach where her bump would soon grow, containing the little life that would tie her and Enjolras together forever. She felt his strong, warm hand over top of her own.

**A/N: I can't believe how many chapters I've written and I'm not sure exactly how many will be left. Maybe 10? Anyways, PLEASE REVIEW!**


	30. Beginnings and Endings

**A/N: This is a pretty short chapter, but that's the least of my worries with this one.**

The next two weeks were anything but easy. Éponine's morning sickness worsened greatly and she wondered why it's title referred to a specific time of day when really the sudden nausea hit at all times. Enjolras was trying desperately to be supportive –he had begun reading a large pile of books about child rearing-, but he still had his dark moments where his body would stiffen and he became a different version of himself; one that no one, including him, was fond of. As more of his memory slowly came back to him, his night terrors of the rebellion also appeared to worsen. At least once every night, he would wake the entire household with his horrified screams. Éponine would always be the one to wake him from the nightmare and comfort him until he calmed down enough to fall back asleep. She could tell Enjolras didn't like feeling burdensome and at first he tried to protest and assure her that she didn't need to worry about him, but he quickly realized that Éponine would never stop coming to his aid. And he honestly did not want her to. On nights when he was feeling particularly scattered and she sat with him, her petite hand in his, and he felt their bond, he invited her to sleep next to him in the bed they once shared every night. He tried to insist that in her condition she should take the bed and he could move to the couch, but she wasn't going for it. "I'm only barely pregnant, you are in much worse condition," she had told him one night after he attempted to pull his weak body from the mattress, groaning with each movement. She had lightly pushed him back down and said with a smile, "I'll reconsider your offer when I'm huge and waddling everywhere."

The rest of the amis had begun to drift in and out of the apartment more frequently, becoming more adjusted to their news post-barricade lives. Joly and Combeferre returned to school while Grantaire sold his art and Courfeyrac did, well, whatever it was he did to keep himself occupied. He confided in Éponine one night about his intentions.

"I want to create a school for street urchins," he murmured, lying on his side in the darkness after the others had fallen asleep. "Like a boarding school, I guess, y'know so they would have a place to live too and get an education as well."

"I think that's an incredible idea Courfeyrac," she told him earnestly. With Gavroche being his clear motivation for wanting to develop such a place, Éponine couldn't help but love the idea. She wondered if things might have ended differently for her dearly departed little brother had he been able to have a proper roof over his head and a reasonable education. He was a cunning and crafty kid, he no doubt could have handled it, and most certainly would have benefitted. This would mean a new beginning for so many street kids.

"I've been speaking with a couple of friends who went to school to be teachers," he continued. "It's difficult convincing them since I can't guarantee much of a paycheck, but I think they're coming around. I'm certain I could convince my parents to allow me to use their second home as the facility, they never use it much anyways."

Éponine tried to imagine, as she had spent so many nights on the streets doing before, what it would have been like to grow up with privilege. She barely had one home at a time throughout her childhood, let alone two grand houses. It seemed like a fantasy. The excess though was awfully wasteful, but at least Courfeyrac had intentions of putting his money and extra space to good use. It was such ideals as these that brought about the rebellion in the first place. Society was advancing, and though it was a dream Éponine would likely not live to see become a reality, the massive wealth disparity would decrease. Those barely hanging on to the bottom wrung of the ladder would eventually find steady footing and maybe even those who were so high up that the beggars looked like ants, would step down a wrung or two for the sake of the people as a whole. It was something worth fighting for.

A dull ache in Éponine's midsection caused her face to cloud over. Noticing her preoccupation, Courfeyrac whispered, "Is everything alright?"

"Just a stomach ache," she replied. She whispered a goodnight to Courfeyrac and rolled over on the couch, cuddling beneath her blanket. Admittedly she had felt slightly off all day, but she chalked it up to lack of sleep from Enjolras' late night shouting and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, quickly falling asleep.

Éponine was roused from her slumber by a cramping in her abdomen. Feeling clammy, she kicked the blankets off and felt something wet between her legs. She sat up and noticed the dark red blood pooling on the couch cushion underneath her. Immediately filled with dread, she screamed and without really thinking it through, the first name she called out was "Enjolras!"

Hearing her yell, Grantaire lifted his head to look at her, his eyelids heavy with sleep. When he noticed the panicked expression on her face, he immediately sat up. "What's wrong, Éponine?"

She bowed over in pain. "I'm bleeding," she grunted from between tightly clenched teeth.

"Joly!" he yelled, moving over to her and gasping at the amount of blood surrounding her.

The other men woke from their individual slumbers and Joly quickly rushed over to assess the situation as the others crowded around. After several moments of tense examination, Combeferre pulled Joly back slightly and whispered something in his ear that Éponine couldn't make out. Joly nodded morosely, looking down on her.

It was then that Enjolras burst through the bedroom door and rushed over in a limp to see what all the commotion was about. He sucked in a shocked breath at the sight of Éponine sitting in a pool of her own blood, tears streaming down her face and she folded in on herself. He knelt on the floor next to her and massaged her back as she let out pained whimpers, her arms wrapped protectively around her midsection. "What's going on?" he shouted. "Joly? Combeferre? Why is nobody doing anything?"

"There's nothing we can do," Joly sighed. "She was only nine weeks along, there's no way…" he trailed off, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"What do you mean I _was_ nine weeks?" Éponine panted. She already knew the answer, but she had to hear him say it out loud in order for it to be real.

"I'm so sorry, but Éponine, you've lost the baby."

**A/N: Ahhhh I feel like a terrible person! Especially after their little moment at the end of the last chapter, but it's all part of the plan, my dear readers. Please don't give up on this story! And PLEASE REVIEW!**


	31. Road to Recovery

**A/N: I hope this chapter will at least partially make up for the last one even though it's another short one! Thanks for reading!**

After several minutes of silence from the amis as Éponine sobbed and clutched her abdomen, Enjolras grabbed her gently by the arm and helped her up. "I'll draw a bath for you," he murmured, leading her away from the concerned faces. She sat dejectedly on the edge of the tub while he slowly filled it with hot water. He stood up to leave and asked, "Do you need help with anything?" Éponine didn't respond. She stood and tugged Enjolras' old shirt -now soaked in blood- that she had been using as pajamas off over her head, not caring that he stood their watching her. She stepped into the tub and sank down in the water, submerged all the way up to her shoulders.

Enjolras turned again to leave. "Can you just stay?" Éponine whispered. "Please?"

"Of course," he murmured. The voices of Joly and Combeferre discussing the possibility of infection in hushed, anxious tones could be heard out in the living room. Enjolras cracked open the door and gave them a meaningful look. The men's footsteps could be heard moving towards the study and Éponine was grateful. Then he shut the bathroom door and folded himself onto the floor next to the tub, grunting as he bent down.

They didn't speak as Éponine slowly washed herself, the water a dark red by the time she was ready to get out. She stood and accepted the towel from Enjolras. Wrapping it tightly under her arms, she wrung out her hair and stepped out of the tub. They walked together to the bedroom where she pulled a clean nightshirt on and mindlessly ran her hands through her hair, finger combing her long, dripping tresses. After a heavy silence, Enjolras finally said, "I'm so sorry, Éponine."

His words seemed to break her. Éponine sobbed, her entire body shaking violently. She fell into Enjolras' chest and his arms instinctively encircled her. After a moment of holding the distraught woman, Enjolras could feel his own ache for the loss of the child. It was his baby too that would now never come to know the world. Sure, he was terrified of having to raise a child, but all the reading he had been doing to prepare combined with the enthusiasm from the other amis and the way Éponine held her not-yet-existent bump had caused him to grow attached and even feel excited for the birth of their child. He had made promises to himself that he would raise his own children to be respectful of the less fortunate and to be brave and intelligent enough to help. The last thing Paris needed was more bourgeois children who didn't understand the true state of the world. His kids would be different and he knew that Éponine would have agreed with him. They could carry on with his work, but more importantly he felt that this child was bringing him and Éponine back together. Somehow, she had already managed to change him –again- from his stoic ways and aloof nature. He had grown eager for their family. And now, without warning that dream was gone. Hot tears, streamed silently down his face and he didn't bother trying to wipe them away.

Suddenly, his vision began to swim and he felt light headed. Memories rushed back into his mind, flooding him with information and overwhelming all of his senses. His legs gave way beneath him and he fell to the floor, taking Éponine down with him.

"Enjolras?" she screeched, her voice several octaves higher with panic. His eyes were rolled into the back of his head and she laid half on top of him, holding his face between her hands. "Wake up," she sobbed, "please, wake up!"

Having heard the thump of both Enjolras and Éponine's bodies hitting the floor, the amis crowded into the room. "What happened?" Combeferre asked, taking in the scene with wide eyes.

"He just collapsed," she whispered.

The entirety of the months previously lost, played out in his mind. Every little detail and blissful moment resurfaced and engulfed him. The drawn out, slowly building passionate love he felt for Éponine; the moment she first pressed her lips to his; bearing his body and soul to her. Every story his friends have told him, every nuance that had been forgotten, all of it came flooding back in. He saw their entire lives played out before him, from everything that happened before the barricade to the battle itself. In his mind, the soldiers stand before him, guns trained on his chest. Suddenly, Enjolras' eyelids fluttered and muted whimpers escaped his lips.

"Enjolras?" Éponine uttered.

He stared up into her wide brown eyes, which were filled with concern for him. Tears still streamed down her face as she grieved for their lost child. His heart swelled in a way that now felt wholly familiar again. "I love you," he murmured. How could he have forgotten this feeling, which was now burning it's way through every fibre of his being? How could he have forgotten _Éponine? _Once again, she felt vital to his entire existence and it felt _right._

Her mouth fell open in surprise, her full lips forming a small O. He caressed her face gently, before pulling her towards him and pressing his lips firmly to hers. At first, she felt stiff and uncertain, fearing that this was just another strange mood swing that he would quickly snap out of and coldly push her away, but Enjolras just continued to move his mouth against hers and she couldn't hold back any longer. She wound her fingers into his hair, gripping the back of his neck and pulling him as close as possible. His hands moved down to her waist as he re-familiarized himself with the gentle curves of her body. An awkward cough caused them to break apart, smiling brilliantly at each other.

"I love you," Enjolras repeated.

"I love you too," Éponine murmured. She pressed her lips to his again for a brief moment before sitting up. Enjolras sat up too, still holding her around the waist, reluctant to let her go.

"Did you just get your memory back?" Joly asked, astonished.

"Every bit of it," Enjolras told him without looking away from Éponine's radiant smile. Her heart was still breaking over her miscarriage, but knowing that she would now have Enjolras to lean on again greatly lifted her spirits. She had him back; he remembered her and he loved her.

**A/N: Ahhh he remembers! PLEASE REVIEW!**


	32. Saying Goodbye

**A/N: I am sooooo sorry about the wait, I've been crazy busy and it didn't help that I've had major writers block with this chapter. Thank you all so much for continuing to be invested in this story and to all those you followed/favourited/reviewed!**

Losing a child was a pain unlike any other. Éponine hadn't even gotten to feel the baby growing inside of her, but she knew it was there and now it was just gone. There was a hollow feeling in her abdomen for the next month. The only silver lining was that Enjolras had returned with full force. He was gaining strength everyday and the colour had returned to his skin. He was radiant with life in a way that he had not been for a long time.

He was also affected deeply by the early loss of their child. Now that he had his memory back, he really did want a family with Éponine. They were cuddled together on the couch, enjoying a rare night alone, when Enjolras voiced an idea. "What do you think about having a service… a small ceremony, I guess?"

"What do you mean?" she questioned, her brow furrowing.

"Not a funeral, but, like, a goodbye… for the baby," he murmured nervously, looking down at her face where it rested against his chest. He was afraid the idea would only upset her, but part of him thought it would be a good thing for both of them. It would give them a chance to say their goodbyes to the little life they would never know and to perhaps get some closure that would allow them to move on.

A small smile appeared on her face and she propped herself up so that she could properly see him, her hand still rested on his chest. "I think that's a great idea," she said, her eyes shining.

"Yeah?" he confirmed. "It can be just us if you want or the amis could come. No doubt they would keep it from getting too heavy." They both laughed softly.

"Yeah, I would like to have them there," she murmured. "We never had a service for… the others," she continued after a long pause. She looked at him wearily, fearing that he would begin blaming himself again for the deaths of his friends, but instead he nodded his agreement.

"You're right. We need to honor their lives as well," he told her.

Enjolras told the amis about the idea of holding a ceremony for their fallen friends, as well as his and Éponine's child, the next morning and of course, all were in strong agreement. They set the date for the coming Saturday and each prepared something to say. It was liberating to actually sit down and write out all those thoughts and feelings on the matter instead of allowing all of the things left unsaid to stew inside of them. Before they knew it, the day arrived.

They decided it was fitting to gather in the café where they had all spent so many long days and endless nights together. The only photograph they had of the entire group sat on the table in front of them; the smiling faces of the men no longer with them stared up from it. The group bowed their heads and took part in a moment of silence before Enjolras cleared his throat. "To have not only the support, but the friendship of Feuilly, Prouvaire, Bahorel, Lesgles, and Gavroche, was both an honor and a gift. These men were strong in their character and in their final moments were incredibly brave in their actions. They were and are loved and will never be forgotten. Years into the future when students learn about the June Rebellion, they will hear the names of those four men and the most daring boy I have ever known, and recognize them as heroes who died for the betterment of the entire country. I owe so much to them and hopefully one day I will get to see them again and tell them just how much their lives and deaths mattered. May their souls rest, knowing the impact they had on each of our lives and in history."

Éponine reached out and grabbed his hand as he returned to stand beside her. As Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Joly, and Grantaire each took turns speaking and saying their goodbyes, a steady stream of tears poured down her face. What Courfeyrac, in particular, had to say about her little brother had Enjolras rubbing her back to soothe her and she nearly sobbed into a handkerchief. Soon they were finished and it was time to move on to the most recent loss. Éponine placed the tiny white bonnet that Courfeyrac had given her just after Enjolras learned of her pregnancy on the table.

"I can't believe I will never know you," she began with a hand placed over her empty womb, and addressed her child, rather than the men in the room. "At first, I was terrified. Not of you, but of what you symbolized. You were the physical manifestation of my love for your father. You were the ultimate commitment. I had no clue how I was going to take care of you, but I wanted you so much and I never got to meet you, but I loved you more than life itself. I never would have imagined my life the way that it has turned out and you were the perfect cherry on top of my dream come true. You were the start of my happily ever after. I know there is a reason that you aren't with us and sadly you won't ever get the chance to take your first breath, but you still managed to change everything. It was you who brought your father back to me. It was you who helped me remember my own strength. Your little life may not have been meant to be, but you sure had in impact. Goodbye my little one, mommy loves you."

Enjolras spoke next, choosing to read a poem Jehan had written a few months earlier after watching a father hold his little boy upside down by the ankles as the tot burst with joyous laughter. When he was done, he wiped at his eyes and fully embraced Éponine, kissing her face as he held her tightly to his chest. "You will make an absolutely wonderful mother," he murmured which only made Éponine cry harder. The other amis joined in the hug and simply stood there enjoying the comfort of each other's hold.

"Thank you for thinking to do this," she whispered after a moment. "I think it was exactly what I needed. Maybe what we all needed."

"She's right," Combeferre said as the men disentangled themselves from the group embrace, clearing their throats and shifting their bleary eyes as of to check for witnesses to the emotional exchange. Their behavior almost made Éponine want to laugh -some things will never change. "Saying goodbye this way allowed us to finally get everything off of our chests and also honor our friends. So thank you, Enjolras." He patted him gratefully on the back and the other nodded their agreements.

Enjolras simply smiled and released Éponine from his embrace, taking only her hand as the group turned and nearly floated out of the café, their bodies no longer bogged down with grief.

**A/N: Please let me know what you think!**


	33. Invitations

**A/N: Again, sorry for the wait. I'm going to try to write a lot in the next couple days so hopefully there will be another chapter up by the weekend! Thank you for reading!**

"You're hopeless," Grantaire laughed as he watched Enjolras attempt to assemble a meal in the kitchen. "How do you keep yourself alive?"

"As if you could do better," Enjolras grumbled without looking up from his task.

"I could actually," Grantaire informed him, gently pushing him aside and taking over with preparing the food. "I'm quite handy in the kitchen. My mom always gave me little tasks while she was making dinner to keep me out of trouble."

"You've never talked about your family before," Enjolras murmured, admitting defeat and letting Grantaire's knowing hands take over. He leaned against the counter and watched as the dark haired man expertly diced the vegetables he had laid out.

"You've never asked," he replied.

Enjolras nodded. He had never asked Grantaire about much of anything really. In truth, he barely knew the man on a personal level. "Where is your family?"

"They live out in the country," he sighed, "they were none too impressed when they caught word of my involvement in the rebellion. Actually, they were shocked."

"I can imagine," Enjolras said, remembering Grantaire's endless cynicism towards his ideas and reasons behind the revolution. They shifted into a heavy silence and Enjolras stood their feeling useless as he watched Grantaire work. The two had never had a good relationship, but Enjolras found him much more bearable now that he was sober, plus he knew how close him and Éponine had gotten while when Enjolras had lost his memory. He was also grateful at this moment that Grantaire was there to cook; he wanted his plan to go smoothly and his awful food preparation would not have put it off to a good start.

* * *

Éponine awoke to the muffled sounds of voices outside the bedroom door.

"Geez Enjolras," Courfeyrac muttered, "man up and just do it!"

"You already asked her, it's not like she's going to say no," Grantaire sighed.

"Really Enjolras, there's nothing to be nervous about, she loves you," Combeferre said patiently.

She could hear him suck in a deep breath before the doorknob turned and Enjolras' peaked his head in, his golden curls falling over his forehead. She smiled at him and his eyes widened in alarm. "Did you just hear everything?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she replied innocently, but his face reddened anyways. She pulled her body into a seated position.

He sighed anxiously and entered the room carrying a tray full of food. "I made you breakfast," he said, setting the tray down over her legs. A loud, conspicuous cough could be heard on the other side of the door and Enjolras rolled his eyes –_of course_ they were listening in. "Well, Grantaire was actually a huge help."

_Grantaire?_ Éponine thought, feeling shocked, but also pleased that maybe the two would become friends. She tried to imagine the odd pair standing in the tiny kitchen and working together, but it seemed so out of place that a small giggle escaped her lips. "Wow, what's the occasion?" Her stomach grumbled and she licked her lips as she looked at the impressive spread he had prepared for her. She immediately began to dig in, realizing how starving she actually was.

"I feel as though our love is something that should be celebrated every day," he said barely above a whisper. "I know that technically I already asked you this and I remember doing so now, but it felt necessary to remind you how much I want you in my life. So…." He trailed off, kneeling before her. He pulled a small satin box from his pocket and opened it to reveal a sparking emerald on a thin diamond encrusted band. She gasped at the sight of it. "Éponine, will you marry me?"

"Of course I will," she shrieked. She carefully moved the food tray to the side before throwing herself at him and knocking him to the floor. He winced in spite of himself and Éponine immediately felt guilty. "I'm so sorry," she murmured, planting kisses of any bare skin within her reach.

"It's quite alright," he assured her, a brilliant smile engulfing his face. "I hope you like the ring."

"I love it!" she said as he slid it into place on her left ring finger. "It's incredible."

"It belonged to my grandmother," he told her, smiling luminously.

This news startled Éponine. "Are you sure I should have this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whispered.

"Of course," Enjolras insisted, grabbing her hands in his and forcing her to look him in the eye. "It was given to me to give to the woman I love. That woman is you -you're my family." He planted a passionate kiss on her pouting lips, driving his words home.

"I want to meet them," Éponine announced when their mouths finally broke apart.

"Who?" Enjolras asked stupidly.

"Your family," she replied with a laugh.

Enjolras' reply came swiftly and sharply, "absolutely not." He released her hands and angrily pushed his hair out of his eyes.

"Why not?" she asked, feeling shocked by his dark mood and abruptness. She waited for a response as Enjolras pinched the bridge of his nose, not meeting her gaze. After several minutes of him not saying anything, she spoke up again, "they won't like me, will they?" she asked sadly. "They won't approve," she stated, already knowing it was the truth based on his intense reaction.

Enjolras sighed. "I don't care where you came from or what happened in the past…. But they will."

"You don't think they would want to know you're getting married?" Éponine pressed.

"We don't need them," he responded shortly. Éponine's face fell and Enjolras cold see the hurt and disappointment in her eyes. She knew they would judge her, but the desire to understand where he came from overrode her nervousness about their assessments of her. She had realized just how little she knew about his family and felt that meeting them would gain her an even better understand of the man she was to marry. He sighed and grabbed fistfuls of his hair in frustration. "But, if it means that much to you perhaps I could arrange a short trip to my family home," he conceded.

"Really?" Éponine asked -her wide brown eyes shining as they met Enjolras' blue ones.

"Really," he stated, again cracking a smile at his future wife.

Éponine smiled brightly back at him. "Thank you," she murmured, kissing his pink lips.

* * *

That night, the group was beginning to gather in the living room as they each returned from school or work for the day. The chatting was lighthearted and the laughter boisterous and full-bodied. Courfeyrac burst through the front door, waving an ivory piece of stationary tied with an elegant ribbon over his head. "We just got an invitation!" he hollered as everyone stared at him.

"An invitation to what?" Combeferre inquired, attempting to take the paper from the other man's hand, but Courfeyrac tore it away from him just in time, a smirk on his face. He opened the note with obnoxious slowness and cleared his throat dramatically.

"Dear friends, you are cordially invited to witness the union of Marius Pontmercy and Cosette Fauchlevant in wholly matrimony," he read. It was scheduled to take place in two weeks time at the Gillenormand manor.

"Pontmercy is getting married?" Enjolras asked, seeming astounded by the news.

"Of course," Combeferre stated, "he was enamored with this woman. Certainly the memory of him nearly abandoning the rebellion for her has come back to you."

Enjolras just grumbled in response, apparently he hadn't focused much on that thought. Éponine though was thrilled for him. Any leftover jealousy for Cosette was long gone. Marius never appreciated all the affection and attention she gave him and their relationship was definitely not meant to be. Cosette, however, captured his heart after merely a glance and it seems that now that they have gotten to truly know each other, that love is even deeper. The only negative thought in her mind was the knowledge that Marius and Cosette's wedding would be the most lavish affair she had ever seen. Her and Enjolras' would never be as fancy. Even though she knew his family had the money to pay for whatever her heart desired, she couldn't fathom spending more francs on one day than she had ever had in her entire life. Yet, she couldn't help but feel a tiny pang of envy as she looked at the thick ivory cardstock invitation. Everything about their life together would be beautiful and expensive and, well, _easy _-and for once, Éponine just wanted things to be easy.

* * *

By some strange coincidence, a few days following his conversation with Éponine regarding a visit to his family, Enjolras received a letter from his mother. It stated that the father of his bride-to-be had contacted them and that she would like to invite them home at their earliest convenience. A knot formed in his throat as his eyes scanned the words on the page for the fifth time. He was unsure how Thénardier would have known about his and Éponine's engagement, yet somehow he not only knew, but had also reached out to his family with the knowledge of their wealth. And he was most certainly hoping to get something out of this marriage.

**A/N: Well there you have it! It's all family drama and weddings to come! PLEASE REVIEW!**


	34. Wedding Guests

**A/N: Ahh I wrote this chapter extremely quick so I apologize if it's rough. Thank you for reading, please continue to review! I received some interesting opinions after the last chapter.**

Enjolras sighed as they entered the huge room. It was everything that he had expected Marius and Cosette's wedding to be. The hall was filled with rows upon rows of chairs for the hundreds of guests expected to attend and flowers and draped fabric appeared to be hanging from every available space. He glanced over at Éponine to see her staring, wide-eyed, around the room. "I've never seen anything so…" she waved her arms around as she searched for the right word," elaborate." Feeling so in awe of her surroundings, it shocked her to see the Enjolras seemed almost bored by all the extravagance. "This is incredible, why do you look so unimpressed?" she asked him.

"There is little difference between this and all the weddings I was made to attend growing up," he said with a shrug of his broad shoulders. He was wearing a very expensive suit that Éponine did not even know he owned and had his curls loosely combed back out of his face. Was he ever a sight. When Éponine first saw him all done up, her jaw dropped to the floor. Enjolras was one of those people who could make a potato sack look good, so him dressed to the nines could put most of the women here to shame in terms of sheer beauty. In fact, Éponine could feel the eyes of envious –and most likely confused- women following them as they moved to their seats. Even in the decadent dress she wore now, she would never quite match Enjolras. Whether it was the way she moved or any number of her other improper mannerisms, she just didn't quite fit in.

"Well I think it's all stunning," Éponine told him, still gazing around, awestruck by the whole affair. Her excessive fascination with each little detail was also giving her away –the others, for the most part, looked unimpressed like Enjolras, as if this was something they saw everyday. Of course there were gatherings of women discussing clothes and décor, but none as stunned as Éponine.

A servant informed the hordes of guests that the procession was about to begin and it was time to take their seats. Once everyone was in place, an organ began to play as Marius entered from the back of the room, walking with his elderly grandfather to the altar where the minister stood in his robes. People waited with baited breath as a two tiny blonde flower girls walked down the aisle in full pink dresses, tossing handfuls of rose petals as they went. Suddenly, everybody rose out of their seats and turned expectantly towards the door. Cosette entered at last on her father's arm. Her dress was made of intricate white lace and it was like nothing Éponine had ever seen before, even in the windows of shop fronts. Cosette was beaming from ear to ear and looked incredibly happy and radiant.

Éponine turned to look back up the aisle where Marius waited for his beautiful bride. The look of sheer joy on his face made her eyes prick with tears. He seemed entirely rapt with Cosette's glowing beauty. She found herself feeling unexpectedly overcome with jealousy. She knew that Enjolras loved her, but he had never looked at her the way Marius was watching Cosette in the moment. She wanted her own moment to walk down the aisle in a beautiful dress and take his breath away. Her thoughts raced ahead to her and Enjolras' own wedding.

Cosette's father kissed her rosy cheek and placed her hand in Marius' before taking his seat. The couple repeated after the minister, each saying their vows in turn. Both of them started crying almost immediately and normally Éponine might have laughed at Marius for being so emotional, but there was nothing laughable about the obvious love shared between the two of them as they sealed their union with a kiss. They broke apart with flushed cheeks and comically large smiles and the entire crowd burst into applause. The pair joined hands and walked back down the aisle and out the large wooden doors. Guests followed shortly after them, filing out of the massive room and out into the front courtyard to wait for the reception to begin.

Enjolras squinted against the sun and looked back expecting to see Éponine right behind him, but she was nowhere in sight. "Grantaire!" he yelled at the man who stood several feet away. "Did you see where Éponine went?"

Grantaire shook his head, his eyebrows pulling together with concern. "She must have gotten lost in the crowd."

"Right," Enjolras replied vaguely, his eyes scanning the crowds of people milling about on the grass, holding fancy drinks and parasols.

* * *

Éponine followed Enjolras as he weaved through the thick crowd and out the grand front doors of the Gillenormand manor when a hand suddenly gripped her arm and pulled her down a side corridor. She spun around to see Thénardier leering at her. "What the hell are you doing here?" she asked him, her voice shaking with fear despite her best efforts to seem strong and brave in front of her abusive father.

"Why I'm 'ere to 'ave a little chat with you m'dear," he sneered. "Good on ya getting' engaged to a righ boy, 'Ponine."

"You're not getting a single sou of his money," she spat angrily, spinning on her heal to leave.

Thénadier grabbed her roughly and shoved her against the wall, knocking the wind out of her. "You'll get me exactly wha' I ask for or I'll take it from yer pretty boy m'self."

"Don't come near me or Enjolras or anyone else I love ever again," Éponine growled, wriggling out of her father's grip and dashing out of the corridor and back into the crowd before her father could catch up. Angry tears flooded down her face and she dabbed at them daintily, pretending to still be deeply touched by the emotional ceremony rather than scared for her life.

She found Enjolras looking frantic outside in the courtyard. He wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug, breathing a sigh of relief. "What happened to you?" he asked. "I thought you were right behind me, but when I got outside you were gone."

For a moment, Éponine debated lying to him, telling him that she had to use the washroom rather than tell him that her father wanted money from him. She was ashamed to admit the truth, but decided it was probably best to tell him –to warn him her father was after them. "My father is here," she nearly whispered.

"What did he want? Did he hurt you? Where is he? I'll kill him," he blitzed through questions faster than she could answer them.

"I'm fine, but Enjolras- h-he," she swallowed hard, "he found out we are to be married. He knows your family is wealthy. He wants money. I- I'm so sorry, I told him he would never get a single franc, but I know my father and he has ways of getting what he wants. He's a greedy bastard; he's willing to do anything. And he's got his group of thugs and god, Enjolras, I'm so sorry." She sniffled, trying to stop the tears from falling again. She felt to guilty for whom her father was.

Enjolras pulled her back against his chest. "Shhh Éponine. Do not worry about it now, I won't let him hurt you." He suddenly felt overwhelmingly guilt ridden that he kept the letter from his mother informing him of Thénardier's contact a secret. He already knew that her father was after their money and now she was apologizing for his actions.

"I don't want to put you or your family in danger," she murmured.

"I'll take care of it."

**A/N: Unfortunately, I don't know how soon I can promise another update as I'm moving into my dorm tomorrow, but I promise to do it as quickly as I can! PLEASE REVIEW!**


	35. Childhood

**A/N: This story is a labour of love and I've been working on it every chance I get in between classes and the ridiculous amount of reading I have to do and I'm still so appreciative of every follow/favourite/review and it definitely motivates me to write more so thank you! Enjoy!**

Enjolras and Éponine loaded their luggage onto the cart the following morning. It would take them two full days of travelling before they would reach the house Enjolras grew up in north of Paris. Éponine skipped around, her excitement not dampened by Enjolras' lack of interest in making the trip to see his family. She believed him when he said he would take care of the issue of her father wanting his family's money. He didn't divulge details about exactly how he planned to deal with it, but she decided she didn't care, she just wanted everyone she loved to be safe and happy and her father didn't fall into that category anymore.

When she was a little girl, she was pampered and spoiled by her parents, but the more in debt they became, the more harsh and desperate they were. They stopped caring about her as their daughter and treated her instead like a slave. All they wanted was for her to get them money any way that she could even if it meant putting her life in danger. Gavroche and their two youngest brothers were essentially abandoned, left to fend for themselves at such a young age, and her sister Azelma was in much the same boat she was. She felt guilty thinking about her three remaining siblings. She was now living this extraordinary life with Enjolras and she wanted to help them, but she had heard that her sister had run away from home and she never really had the chance to know her brothers. She didn't even know what they looked like anymore.

Her family had failed her, but that did nothing to quell her excitement over meeting Enjolras'. He described them as typical bourgeois and though they sounded like loving parents to Éponine, his disdain for their lifestyle was all too apparent. He also had five siblings, none of which he had previously told her much about. When she'd asked about his brothers and sisters he had said "Older brother and sister, twin sister, and two younger brothers," and stopped the conversation at that. There was an obvious affection when he mentioned the sibling he had shared a womb with, but he seemed reluctant to really discuss any of his family members in much detail so Éponine never pressed him on it. Instead she let her imagination run wild about what they might look like. She pictured them all with similar shades of wildly curly gold hair and bright blue eyes. His brothers would have strong jaws like Enjolras, but his sisters would be softer in appearance with slightly rounder, more classically feminine, faces and rosy cheeks. In her mind they were all beautiful and elegant. She found it intimidating without even knowing if her assumptions were true or not.

At last, they climbed into the carriage and left the city behind. "I really don't understand your excitement," Enjolras grumbled.

"I've never had much of a family," she said simply, shrugging her shoulders. "I know next to nothing about where you come from. I feel like meeting your family will give me some insight."

"My family will tell you very little about who I am," he responded curtly.

"As much as we both may hate to admit it, we are a product of our upbringing," Éponine said, her tone darkening.

That was the end of the conversation. Enjolras pointed out landmarks and told stories about travelling as a child as they bounced along down the road, getting further out into the country. It was funny to Éponine to imagine Enjolras as a little boy. She had always known him as very mature and very much an adult, so picturing him as a goofy, floppy haired kid and then a lanky, sullen teenager caused her to giggle.

The rode in comfortable silence for a good hour before Éponine spoke up again. Thinking about Enjolras' youth caused her thoughts to drift back to her own childhood. "When Cosette lived with us I was terrible to her. I was a spoiled brat and I paraded around in my pretty dresses and spent my days playing with Azelma and all the toys we had while my parents sold Cosette's clothes so she had to wear rags and they forced her to work at the inn. We ignored her. Treated her like a slave. And then for so many years I resented her for leaving with her father. My life fell apart and hers became a fairytale. I was so jealous and so angry. I spent so many nights wondering why he came for her and why he didn't help me too. I was horrible."

"You were a child, Éponine," Enjolras replied gently, placing his hands on hers comfortingly. "You didn't know any better; you can't be so hard on yourself."

"It's true though," she responded, staring out the window blankly.

"I was a difficult child to say the least," Enjolras finally said after a long pause. Éponine waited with baited breath for him to continue. Maybe he was finally going to discus his upbringing with her. "From an early age I disagreed with the lifestyle we lived. I remember when I was eight we made my first trip into Paris. Out in the country we were sheltered from all the poverty that the city has on full display. I found it revolting; all those people starving and desperate. I asked my father why all those people were sleeping in alleyways and wearing rags and he told me it was because they were beggars who didn't work for a living. He blamed them. He said we were better than them. I said 'but they're people like us' and he just scoffed as if that was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. Even at eight years old I knew it was heinously wrong. My parents never understood my keen interest in uplifting the public condition. You can imagine their disdain about the rebellion."

Éponine suddenly felt indignant towards his father. Most of the people on the street would love to work for living –they were not lazy and unwilling to get a job; there simply were no jobs. Stealing and cheating were the only ways that they could feed their families and live another day. The idea of blaming the poor for being poor boggled her mind.

"And now you're bringing a peasant home as your fiancée," she whispered with a sad laugh.

Enjolras put his arm around her and let her lie down with her head in his lap. "What happened to all that enthusiasm?" he teased. His voice was light, but he was admittedly nervous. He watched the sun fall behind the rolling hills of the countryside and tried to keep his head. This was a bad idea and he should not have let himself be talked into it.

"I still want to meet them, I just don't want to cause more issues between you and your parents. I don't want to be the final straw that cracks your relationship irreparably."

"If they can't see how magnificent you are and how happy you make me then I don't need them in my life anyways."

**A/N: Up next…. Enjolras' family! Please review!**


	36. Meet the Parents

**A/N: I am so sorry that the updates are beginning to take longer and longer and I wish I could say that that is definitely going to change, but that's not a promise I can make at the moment. I will however try my very best to write ahead as much as possible whenever I have spare time and then try to post chapters at semi-regular intervals. I didn't really intend for the story to go in this direction. I never wanted to invent my own characters, but I'm intrigued about what it will be like creating Enjolras' family. So please review and let me know what you think of my interpretations and ideas!**

"_How could you bring a disgusting street rat into our home?" a man's voice boomed. The man stood in front of Éponine and Enjolras, a furious expression on his face. He greatly resembled Enjolras, but his hair was almost completely gray and there were creases around his eyes and across his forehead that aged him._

"_Do not speak of her that way!" Enjolras yelled at his father in response. "She will be my wife!"_

"_If you wanted to punish me, there are easier ways to do it than marrying this filth. She'll bleed you dry and run off to the next wealthy man who takes pity on her."_

"_I don't want his money," Éponine said firmly, trying to stand her ground._

"_Don't get used to our lifestyle, dear," a slight, elegantly dressed woman responded coldly. Her nearly white blonde hair was tied back, but several tight curls hung loosely around her slim face._

"_She's not going anywhere," Enjolras said, wrapping his arm tightly around Éponine._

"_She's not already pregnant, is she?" his mother gasped in horror, scrutinizing her future daughter in law. "She got her hands on a good gene pool."_

"_No," Éponine snapped. "I'm marrying him because I love him. I'd marry him even if he was dirt poor and ugly as sin."_

_Enjolras' father narrowed his eyes and uttered his final warning, "If you marry this peasant girl you can never come back here."_

"Éponine," Enjolras murmured, gently nudging her awake. "We're here."

"Hmm?" she mumbled, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She tried to push the dream out of her mind; his family could never be as horrible as she imagined. It was just nerves and excitement messing with her sleep.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Enjolras asked her genuinely, looking a little unsettled himself.

"You're not going to talk me out of this," she replied, smiling at him before turning to climb out of the carriage. Forgetting all about her nightmare, she stretched her arms above her head as if reaching for the sun. Her limbs were stiff from the trip, she wasn't used to sitting still for such a long time. Enjolras stepped out behind her and pushed his curls out of his eyes. "Besides, we've already made this whole journey," she added.

"Well I suppose we can't postpone this meeting any longer," he sighed, taking her hand. They walked along the path through a grand and immaculately groomed garden full of flowerbeds and vibrant shrubbery. The yard was so vast, Éponine could imagine getting lost in it. As they got closer, her eyes adjusted to the glaring sunlight and she was able to really see the work of architecture in front of her. The sheer size of the almost palace like house took Éponine's breath away. She hadn't seen many homes this large, and certainly not in the city. But Enjolras' childhood home nearly rivaled that of Marius' grandfather, M. Gillenormand. Stone pillars and huge windows decorated the stone façade. They walked up the vast stone steps to the huge wooden double doors and Éponine gulped nervously.

One of the doors swung open to reveal a pleasant looking older man who looked nothing like Éponine had imagined. She opened her mouth to introduce herself to her fiancés father when Enjolras said, "Henri!" He sounded delighted and was grinning widely.

"Luc!" he uttered in surprise, sounding equally delighted. Confusion muddled Éponine's mind. Clearly this man was not his father after all, but who was he? And who's Luc? The two men shared a quick hug before Enjolras turned back to her and acknowledged the confused expression on her face.

"My full name is Luc Olivier Enjolras. Olivier is my father. I don't really go by it anymore," he said quickly. Why had she never asked what his first name was? She was about to marry him and until now she didn't even know that his name was Luc? "And this is Henri," he gestured towards the older man. "He's worked for my parents since before I was born. He helped raise my siblings and I."

"Oh," Éponine said, smiling warmly at him. "It's lovely to meet you."

"Henri, this is my fiancée, Éponine," Enjolras continued with his introduction.

"Even lovelier to meet you, my dear," Henri said, stepping forward to embrace her. Éponine returned his hug and he patted her back as if they were already as close as him and Enjolras appeared to be. It was surprisingly pleasant to be so openly greeted by this man she had never met before. It was clear that he loved Enjolras like a child and he didn't seem to have the slightest bit of apprehension towards his relationship with Éponine. Hopefully his actual parents would be just as welcoming.

"Where are my parents?" Enjolras asked, suddenly seeming more tense. Éponine looked at him nervously, chewing on her lip.

"They are in the sitting room I believe," Henri responded, sensing the change in the emotional atmosphere. "You have nothing to worry about." He touched Éponine's arm comfortingly and she looked up at him gratefully.

"Thank you," she murmured. Enjolras took her hand again and they entered.

"Georges and Pierre are upstairs as well," Henri called after them, "and Charlotte is having her painting lesson on the back terrace."

"Who is he talking about?" Éponine whispered to Enjolras and they walked across the foyer.

"My siblings," Enjolras sighed. "The only one's he left out are Amélie and Philippe. Both are married and have families. I assume they will be here for dinner though."

"What are they like?" she asked.

"Anyone in particular or do you want a quick run through of them all?" he chuckled, lightening some of Éponine's tension.

"All of them," she responded with a giggle of her own.

"Alright, well Amélie is the eldest. She was very protective of all of us growing up," he began, looking wistful, "She married a factory owner about five years ago now and they have three children. Next is Philippe. Him and I were quite competitive with each other and he always had this air of superiority because he was older. He married not long after Amélie did to a rising opera singer- a soprano. She's quite lovely," he added, "Then there is myself and Charlotte- I'm seven minutes older. She's the artist of the family. Went to a prestigious art school and still takes painting lessons to this day as Henri just mentioned, not that she needs them, her work is quite incredible. We're very much opposites- she sees the beauty in everything while I see all the problems that need to be fixed. We balance each other- her and I have always been close. I think you two would get along brilliantly." His face brightened as he spoke about his twin and a smirk appeared on his lips. "Then there is Georges. He's fourteen and honestly a bit girl crazy." He chuckled at a memory and shook his head. Éponine smiled up at him, completely entranced by this big family that was still only imaginary for her. "And last is little Pierre who is only nine. I think he's a bit too much like me for my parent's liking and he's still just a child," he concluded smiling slightly.

"Wow," she sighed, "I can't imagine what it must have been like growing up with so many siblings around.

"Quite chaotic at times. But in a house this large, there were always places to escape for a little while," he replied just as they reached a door. "You ready?"

His parents must be just on the other side. She gulped and nodded, not trusting her voice. He pushed the door open and they stepped inside. A man sat behind a large wooden desk, looking almost exactly as she had imagined. His hair was graying at the temples and the vibrant blond that Enjolras held onto had faded. Creases around his eyes and mouth looked more like laugh lines to Éponine than the kind you would get from years of grimacing. He was broad shouldered and looked as though he maintained much of the strength from his youth, but he did not look nearly as stern and cruel as he did in her nightmare. Bright blue eyes glanced up from the heavy book he was holding and an easy smile pulled up the corners of his lips.

From the corner of her eye, Éponine saw a tall, slender woman hop up from her seat on a pale blue satin sofa. "Luc!" the woman exclaimed, delighted. Her hair was not the white blonde Éponine had seen in her dream, but rather a lovely strawberry blonde that was piled on her head in a delicate chignon, a few pieces falling loose around her pleasant face. She wore a modest emerald dress that brought out the red in her curls. Her skin was very fair, but a smattering of freckles and the natural rosiness of her cheeks made her look very lively and youthful.

She held her son's face between her hands as her husband set down his heavy book and stood up to greet them. "Oh, my baby, I'm so happy to see you alive and well," his mother cooed. "How could you endanger your life like that? You had us so worried!"

"Mother I'm fine," Enjolras sighed, already exasperated with his mother's concern.

"François wrote us that you were injured," she continued.

"I didn't know that," he grumbled, angered by this information. "I assure you mother, I'm fine."

"But-"

"He said he's fine, Margaux," Olivier said, placing a hand on his wife's shoulder. "Besides, he didn't come here to have you fuss all over him, he came to introduce us to his future wife."

Everyone's eyes shifted to Éponine and she could feel the blood rushing to her face and colouring her cheeks. "Hi," she breathed.

**A/N: So there you have it! Next up is the big family dinner! PLEASE REVIEW!**


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